The Healer and The Lawyer
by Lady Ylla
Summary: He's desperate and she's clumsy. A story about a potion spill and the chaos that follows. One week later and things could never be the same between The Healer and The Lawyer... or could they? An angsty and weird Dramione with a happy ending and some lemons to enjoy! Rated M for said lemons! Read and Enjoy!
1. Prologue

**Warnings:** This story is set in an Alternate Universe, this means things are different. Don't assume anything. This story is rated M for mature language, explicit sexual scenes, and dark themes. It's weird and heavy with angst, but with a happy ending. Don't like it? Don't read.  
 **Seriously - it's a weird and strange story.** **Please don't review/PM me and ask me to change it? It's my story, don't like it? Don't. Read. It.**

 **This is my attempt to play around with perspectives.**

This is the **Prologue** _ **,**_ you know that bit that comes before the story? It's different. The story is not told from the same perspective.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

* * *

 **The Healer and The Lawyer**

* * *

 **Prologue**

Do you believe all the things you read?

Maybe you ought to take a second look.

* * *

Well it all started with a Healer and a Lawyer.

War was tough, and somehow no one realized how much harder it was to live with yourself after said war was over. The Healer, a brilliant and respected man in his field, had been on the wrong side of that war, many years ago. People had argued for him of course, said he was just a child. He had been _influenced_ negatively. He had _grown up_ in the wrong setting. Give him a _second chance_ they cried. Especially after he had served time in prison for his wrong doings, though his sentence was shortened considerably when they took into account his age and family background.

The Healer had gone back to school after his prison time was served, his marks were excellent, and he was accepted into a Healer's program at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He was great with a wand but even better with a cauldron his mentors quickly realized. He had a knack for brewing and they decided to help him get into the Potion's Master Program, an elite and study intensive Program that took someone who knew someone who knew someone in order to even apply. The effort, however, was worth it. After all, when the staff of Healers at the hospital had more certifications, that brought in more money. Of course, money wasn't the reason behind _the potion._ But it played its role like everything else does.

The Healer continued his work, first exceeding in getting his Masters in Potions, then using his old family wealth to better the community, much to the displeasure of his widowed Father, another _Wrong-Sider._ It was a lot of work, a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. But the Healer knew it was worth it. His Father had driven their good family name into the ground, taking the Healer's Youth with him. And the Healer would be damned if that family name would only become a sad story eventually forgotten by the wizarding world. So he did it, amid the hours and hours of studying, the challenges of being a _Wrong-Sider_ , and the long hourly workload of being a Healer, well, the Healer chose to succeed instead of fail.

He went to the charity balls, the galas, the public events. He smiled and said the right things to the _Right-Siders._ He moved on from the echoes of war, echoes he avoided by staying away from his childhood home, even if he couldn't avoid them out in the war torn world he lived in. Even his own body seemed a large cavern those echoes could never escape. Eventually they dulled, faded to the background, and he went on. He went on. To working with patients, working with staff, making a better name for himself as the years passed. In a few instances, just to keep up with media and the public, he even went on a few dates, making sure to flash a smile at the cameras. People didn't forget about the war, but they began to glaze over the fact that he was a _Wrong-Sider_ in a _Right-Sider_ world. But still… _they didn't forget._

And that fact, _that fact,_ more than anything the Healer had been through, more than the death of his Mother, more than his prejudiced Father, more than the hurt of being a _Wrong-Sider_ , more than the struggles of trying to be a good wizard, _that fact more than anything else,_ is what started the Healer down the path towards discovering _the potion._

Now, the Lawyer. She was a _Right-Sider_ through and through. Even better, she was one of the first _Right-Siders,_ one of the few that were _Right_ before people realized there was a Right and a Wrong. Even at a young age, she knew where she stood(The Right Side), knew who she stood with(The Right Side _rs_ ), and refused to see it any other way. The Brightest Witch of Her Age, they called her. Even if she was a bit clumsy from time to time. Smart and logical, and so very brave, she didn't see the world in blacks or whites. She didn't accept when people said "This is how it is!". She fought for beings who weren't capable of fighting for themselves and she didn't do it for profit. She didn't do it for fame either, though eventually she had plenty of both. She fought for what she thought was right, and with that stunningly brilliant head on her shoulders, she was generally right about what exactly _was right._

The Lawyer was hurt, physically and emotionally, during the war. And after… much worse had happened. Though she handled it all with her head held high, the picture of grace and courage and bravery. She wielded her wand with precision, battling against the _Wrong-Siders_ until the very end, supporting her friends even until they had long lost hope. And there, at the very end, the _Wrong-Siders_ thought were on the right side, and the _Right-Siders_ thought they had lost finally… well they won. It worked out.

The Lawyer emerged with her friends, the Hero and the Soldier, and together they helped rebuild their broken, sad, war-torn world. It was a lifetime commitment and the Lawyer started by going back to school to finish her education. She even brushed paths with the Healer from time to time, but they had been on opposite sides for too long and childhood hatreds ran too deep. She got excellent marks and graciously accepted a position working at a firm within the Ministry of Magic, and slowly, ever so slowly, she began to sow the seeds of the future she envisioned.

With a case here, a case there, she worked to get rights to creatures other than wizards, who had for too long considered themselves the best of their world. She worked the system and with her Government Officials to bring legislation that not only helped the Ministry run more efficiently, but worked for the people instead of against them. Things weren't perfect, not by any means.

Politics were still dirty, people still had differing ideas on how society should be run.  
But the Lawyer made a difference and at the end of the day, she loved doing her job. Burying herself in her work and research until there was hardly any time left for much else, like remembering the hurts of the war. Though she made sure to spend time with her friends, the Hero and the Soldier, she knew her job was important and that logical brain of hers convinced her to spend little time on little else. As one of the faces of the _Right-Siders_ she made sure to make a public appearance here and there, smiling for the cameras, saying the right things to the right people at the charities and the galas. Especially those that benefited her work.

And sometimes, she even ran into the Healer. Though they tried to be cordial towards one another, it rarely ended in smiles. Their meetings only served to remind the Lawyer of the things she wanted to forget. Even with all the good she had done over the years, even with the hope of a strong future, even with that logical brain trying its best to convince her overly large heart that the war was _over_ and it had all been _worth it,_ she wanted to forget. Forget the pain, the death, the loss of her childhood.

So when a file slipped onto the Lawyer's desk one day, expressing the need to define the legality between a Memory Altering Potion and a new potion, created by a genius potion brewer and Healer at St. Mungo's, that hadn't been given a proper name yet. But the intent of the potion was clear: it made you forget.

The Lawyer scoffed, and swallowed her feelings when she read the name at the top of the paper.

Who would purposely want to… forget… oh… but the possibility was planted in that brain of hers and she couldn't ignore it. It was discussed heavily once the paper got a hold of the news. At family dinners and in the break room at the offices. At the school and down Diagon Alley. Why not just Obliviate ourselves, some cried. What was the difference between the Memory Charm and the potion, people demanded. We _need_ to remember, others insisted. Those who studied History swore it was our duty to remember, lest we make the same mistakes again and again. The media scrambled to put out anything on the major issue, turning up as much information as they could.

But though the patent was filed and the Lawyer was researching into it, both at work and at home, there hadn't been steps taken towards producing the potion, nor advertising it. It had barely even been tested to the extent of being Approved, yet the population was nearly divided again, and it was no longer _Right-Siders_ and _Wrong-Siders._ Some wanted the potion, though what exactly it did that was different from Obliviate hadn't been made clear by any means. The others wanted to remember the war, to honor the fallen and the sacrifices and the mistakes. It was chaos.

So on a bright but cloudy Autumn morning, the Lawyer bucked up and went to St. Mungo's, knocking firmly on the hard wooden door inscribed in bold black letters the name of her childhood enemy, wanting to get to the bottom of what exactly this potion did. The thick door opened revealing a tall and slender blonde headed figure. The Healer had pale, pale skin, and even paler blonde hair, so pale it was almost white. Almost. Though his eyes were a warm grey that broke up the paleness and stood out dramatically and his Healer's robes were a bright yellow that went well on his good posture, posture ingrained since he was a child, raised by the Elite of their society. It annoyed the Lawyer, but she wouldn't be phased. She had opened her mouth, her well recited speech on the tip of her tongue when he simply said her name. Her first name. And invited her in to talk matters over as if they hadn't been enemies since the day they met. His aristocratic voice grated on her skin, his assumption in using her first name annoyed her further, but she had come with a purpose.

"Tell me, what were you thinking filing the Patent for this potion? It doesn't even seem ready." Right to the point, the Lawyer didn't want to be there any longer than necessary.

He ignored her bluntness, instead gesturing mannerly to the chair in front of a sturdy, and surely expensive, solid wood desk with rich detailed curved legs, all polished to a crisp blackness that screamed elegance. He sat down, his back straight as a rod and gazed at her, as if he were trying to figure out the exact amount of wheels that made her mind turn.

"Is this how you always get your way in court? Straight to the point?" The faintest of sneers showed at the corners of his mouth, though she had the impression he might've been impressed by her bluntness.

"Some points need to be dragged out until I get my way, this matter however I believe straight to the point is the way to go, with the media in a frenzy as it is..."

"Very well, then I'll be straight forward in return. I did not file the patent. Nor was the potion ready when the patent was filed." He shrugged and gently folded his hands together on the top of his desk, which was well organized and clutter free.

The Lawyer wasted no time in bringing out her paperwork, noting the date the patent was filed (the 12th of August, year 2015), and grabbing her Quick Quill and setting it to begin recording everything that was said.

"Say it again then, you did not file the patent to begin with? And the potion was not ready at the time the patent was filed?"

"That is correct."

"That's not unusual for the patent to be filed before the invention is completed, but if you didn't file the patent-" she pulled out the original file. "Who did? It's signed with your name."

Before he could respond, the Lawyer brought out her wand, tapping the page with a wordless wave and they both watched as the signed name at the bottom turned into another.

"The Head of my department." The Healer informed the Lawyer before she could ask. "Though it hardly matters. It is my potion, I take responsibility for it. I have the credentials."

A single eyebrow raised, the Lawyer pushed a new patent form and a fresh Needs-No-Ink Quill towards him and notarized it once it was signed with his name.

The Healer continued, "And yes the potion was not ready at the time the first patent was filed."

"And now?"

A quick smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's in the stages of testing."

"So you can tell me here and now in an official capacity what your potion does? Because I've read more about this thing than anyone else and I still can't tell you the answer to that." More forms, an official statement, more signatures followed.

And bickering.

Then the Healer led the Lawyer through the other door in his office, the Quick Quills following closely, a door that opened to a clean, well stocked potion laboratory. She tucked her paperwork safely in her briefcase, a briefcase charmed to protect it's contents from getting wet or destroyed in any way and finally looked up to see the Healer gently pulling the lid from a small cauldron. A stream of rose colored smoke rose from the cauldron in a slow, creeping tendril.

"A selective Forgetful Potion, targets unpleasant memories, experiences, emotions, facts, and even opinions. A good bit of charm work is required to brew this potion and as the creator, I believe it should be highly regulated and offered only to those who need it. Such as trauma victims."

"That could still be opened to a wide interpretation…" The Lawyer said slowly, her brain screaming that this potion should be illegal as any Unforgivable. But the beaten, war damaged child inside was pleading, begging, screaming for a taste, just a small one. Relief from the echoes of war were just a fingertip away.

"True. But that's why you're here, no?"

She nodded, and then said, "Why did you show it to me? That was… unnecessary. You should have said... " Because now she wanted it. Even as logic ruled she was safe, and no such potion should be brought to the public, even as it told her the war was over and done with but still needed to be remembered.

The Healer turned to the Lawyer. "Because I need a lawyer on my side. I cannot get live trials going because of the very nature of this potion, and I cannot go any further without live trials."

Her Quick Quills was scribbling away, recording every word he said. But a debate was going on inside her head. Live trials? She didn't want this potion to be a thing, and yet she wanted to taste the sweet smelling potion that rested not even a foot away from her, the smoky tendrils practically beckoning her to come closer.

"What makes you think I would help you?" she asked slowly.

And then that ever so infamous smirk lit up his face. "The potion is red, that means… you want it. You want to taste it, taste it and forget. If you didn't want it, it would be blue. A little security feature I added so it would never be administered to an unwilling patient."

The Lawyer processed his words, her cheeks turning ever so pink with embarrassment. The Healer had been in Slytherin, of course he tricked her into getting information she would never have given up.

"Smart." She said, instead of beating him with the back end of her briefcase.

"So I've been told." Was his cool reply. Though it lacked the arrogance he carried when they were children.

"It was red when you opened the lid." She ventured out.

The lab was silent for several seconds. "I would take it in a heartbeat." The Healer admitted finally.

"The legality of this… I… the paperwork alone... " The Lawyer's brain jumped into overdrive, immediately making a list of the one hundred things she suddenly had to do. Because she couldn't deny what she wanted, when he had so easily tricked her into the information. The question remained whether she _should_.

"Yes… it'll be a clusterfuck I'm sure."

"Watch your language." She snapped at the Healer.

He ignored her and instead said, "That's why I asked for you."

"Me? A Muggle-Born?"

"You, the Brightest Witch of Her Age and the best Lawyer around."

"You flatter me."

"It's the truth."

To say he surprised her would be an understatement, the idea that this _Wrong-Sider_ thought so highly of her… she shivered. And quite suddenly saw him in a different light. The amount of _good_ they could do with this potion put him in that light and the faintest of appreciation made itself known at the edge of her mind.

But she had no time to think on it, as she turned slightly to open her briefcase, The Lawyer known for being a bit clumsy from time to time(or maybe it was fate shoving the poor witch), knocked the small cauldron with just the smallest of bumps. It would have easily regained it's own balance but in a panic, the Healer jumped with a jolt to wrap his thin arms around the fat cauldron and in his haste knocked it completely from its stand and brought both of them crashing to the floor, the smoky red potion falling over their faces and arms, and the flying cauldron banging harshly against the Lawyer's head with a loud noise.

Groaning, somehow suddenly on the floor and feeling soaked to her very bones, the Lawyer turned her aching head towards the other person in the room. The taste of smoke and earth roots and roses and something completely sour like bad milk but not quite filled her mouth and she had the horrible idea that she may have been bleeding from all over her face, something thick and red filling her eyes. She tried to sit up and help the other person, not really remembering what happened to begin with. She caught the blurry vision of him or was it a her? A pale head covered in red she realized. He/she was bleeding too!

But as quickly as she thought it, it was fading from her memory.

"Noo!" A person right next to her screamed and she hadn't the faintest idea where he… or maybe a she had come from and they might have been bleeding and why did her head hurt so terribly?

"Don't think of anything you don't want to forget!" A person she hadn't noticed screamed at her and jolted her with fear. Her head was hurting an awful lot and what did they mean by not thinking of anything she wanted to forget or not forgot or… ? She realized the other person was Dra- her head was pounding. And she thought randomly of having a bad hangover after her dear friend's birthday party and why couldn't she remember his name? He was too important… he was everything to her… it was just a few months ago - and going to the Ministry the day after with a headache - and … she couldn't possibly forget -

The Healer grabbed the Lawyer, yelling at her not to forget him even as he fought the same battle, he tried not to think of the things he wanted to remember, but that in turn made him think of the very things he shouldn't have. Like this potion. Like his Mother. Like all his work and how no one, not a single person was going to be able to fix this. He saw the exact moment the potion took root in the Lawyer and then she was no longer a Lawyer. Her face going slack as she sunk to the ground unconscious. It was exactly 5 seconds later that he felt his own body surrender to the potion, feeling completely desperate and then so suddenly nothing as he slipped into unconsciousness.

It was several hours later when hospital staff found the Lawyer who was no longer a Lawyer and the Healer who was no longer a Healer.

* * *

Remember what I said?

Were you paying attention?


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

* * *

Think about it for a minute.

* * *

Warm grey eyes blinked open and stared at the ceiling above, probably 12 feet over head and white and clean with even paint brush strokes. Why he noticed such detail he didn't know. In fact, he realized with a sudden thought, he didn't know much. His head felt unevenly empty, like bits of his brain had been taken out while other bits had been left to feel heavy and hard and useless. He brought his hand up to feel the back of his head, and gasped loudly when saw how the skin of his hand and fingers were stained red and the first thought he had was blood. But was it his own? Or worse… someone else?

It was then that he realized his head hurt. Hurt like a migraine he once had after he saw a Muggle Police Car with bright flashing lights speed by him and he had spent the following day locked in his bedroom with the curtains drawn completely shut and a Cooling Charm on the back of his head and neck. Maybe he had been in a fight? Maybe he had a head injury? These thoughts were not smooth and even though he couldn't quite help but think them, he wished his brain would just shut down because he didn't want to be conscious when just thinking hurt. And why, oh why, did he know about Muggle Police Cars and migraines and Cooling Charms when he knew nothing else?

But then he remembered, though he couldn't tell you if it was because he knew it first hand or if he had heard it somewhere else, he sat up and leaned over the hospital bed he was resting on and promptly threw up, the vomit forcing its way from his stomach and tasting like dirt and roses and sour milk. Throwing up and migraines went hand in hand sometimes. He continued forcing out the ugly pink and yellow vomit until there was nothing left and his head felt slightly better, as if the pressure had eased up some. And with the eased pressure he could think about what he remembered. Which wasn't much. Ugh…

He was a wizard and his name was Draco Malfoy. His wand was a black Hawthorn, 10 inches long with the hair of a unicorn as the magical core. Which struck him as ironic… but he had no idea why. He could do magic and he was rather good at it, he thought. Though he had no idea why he would think that, because he couldn't remember a single time where he performed any magic. He couldn't remember a single moment of his life, actually… only an emptiness. And he had no damned idea why!

He tried to think if he had gone to school, and he must have? Surely? If he was a skilled wizard, that would imply some form of study. He must have a family, because he certainly hadn't just popped into being randomly. That just didn't happen.

His empty stomach churned uneasily at the realization that something mighty awful had happened to him, because he couldn't remember anything in particular, though he knew he was an adult. A wizard. A man. He decided that before he did anything else, he would think on what he did know. Like the alphabet. Alright, he knew his ABC's and even his name! D-R-A-C-O, he knew how to spell his own name and that was certainly more than some people could say after ending up in St. Mungo's.

Oh! St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He knew where he was and he knew how to spell his own name. That was a great start! What next? He did some basic arithmetic, adding randomly in his head. 2 + 2 = 4, so what plus what equaled him being in this bed with no memory of his life, though he knew who he was? He looked down to the red stained fingertips and tried to focus on that.

Nothing.

Nada.

"Oh Mr. Malfoy! You're awake!" A sweet voice called and he looked up at the sound to see a witch in bright yellow robes making her way towards him with quick steps. She placed a hand on his forehead.

"Hello."

He realized he didn't recognize the sound of his own voice, which sounded lyrical to his ears, but sent a shiver down his spine. How weird was it not to recognize your own voice? Before he could stop himself he blurted out, "I mean this in the nicest way possible, Ma'am. What the fuck happened to me?"

It was plain odd, his voice sounded like someone else, but he had no comparison. But the words spilled from his mouth, felt the slight vibrations in his own throat as they did.

The witch's smile died down and it was replaced with a look of pity. "Mr. Malfoy, I'm sorry to say it… but you do remember that potion you've been working on?"

Potion? He couldn't tell you what he had for breakfast… ever. He couldn't say what his own birthday was!

And that was when the panic set in. Why did he remember somethings, like his name, but couldn't remember, well the rest? And he certainly didn't remember any potion!

"Mr. Malfoy it's okay, you're safe." Her sweet voice was soothing even has her hands were firm.

The witch pushed down on his shoulders when he went to get up, the bed suddenly a constraint. Though he remained tense, Draco decided to trust this witch in her yellow Healer's robes and allowed her to push him back into the comfort of the uncomfortable bed. His eyes drifted to her pushed back black hair and he let his eyes focus on that.

"I don't remember a potion."

"Ah… it was a selective forgetful potion, you've been working on it for ages."

The words went into his ears and he tried so very hard to process them, but it was as if he were trying to chew on leather. Like swimming in sand… like the Canon's winning the World Tournament! Wait he remembered Quidditch but not his own birthday?

"I…" and he fainted.

It was some time later, the sun having set and the night shift staff having taken over, that Draco woke up, his arm curled under his head and his body turned towards the one window in the room. He took note of the reddish blonde hair that needed to be combed, the silky strands sticking out randomly from his head. He pushed it back and then rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Immediately he remembered earlier, waking up to blood on his hands, blood that still stained his skin, and a splitting headache that made him throw up. And the potion. But he was relieved. Relieved to remember anything.

It was then he heard the faintest of sighs. He sat up, slowly, his head heavy after the migraine he had had. His eyes fell on the resting figure on the bed across the room from his. It was dark so he couldn't be sure, but it looked to be a girl, her face and hair and the tops of her shoulders that weren't covered by the blanket all stained red, like his own hands. He reached up and grabbed a few strands of his own hair, bringing them close to his eyes. His hair wasn't a strawberry blonde like he thought, no it was a pale blonde, stained with that dreaded red! How hard was it to remove blood? He thought about his wand, one the few things he was sure about. And he knew he could easily remove blood with a wave of magic and a nonverbal spell. A cleaning charm is all it would take. That meant one of two things: either the people running this place were morons, or maybe it wasn't blood. He brought the strands to his nose, the length just long enough for him to reach, and took a sniff. Earth Root and roses, something sour and tangy, and above all else, the heaviness of smoke. Not blood.

He realized he had an excellent sense of smell, and that was one of the reasons he was good at brewing. Though, he stuck out his tongue in a show of bad temper, he couldn't remember a single instance where he brewed a potion, or even learned how!

Oh, he realized as he rubbed his index finger and thumb together. Maybe it was the potion. The stain. What a dreadful thing it was turning out to be. And even worse… he had been the one working on it, according to that Healer.

With a giant sigh of his own, he realized he had done this to himself most likely… and maybe even brought someone down with him. His gaze again fell on the sleeping girl and a giant wave of depression overtook him. Had he erased her life as well as his own?

He threw the thin blanket off his legs and stood on firm feet, stretching his back by raising his arms above his head. He felt quite like he'd been run over by a Hippogriff. His lips tugged up into a smile, though he didn't know why he found that funny at all. Then he thought, a Hippogriff. A magical creature that is part eagle and part horse. Why did he know that but he couldn't remember his birthday? He rubbed at his eyes again. The witch Healer had said his potion was a selective forgetful potion, did he purposely want to forget his own birthday?

The girl sighed again and he gingerly stepped towards her hospital bed, curious and confused, he noted the faint laugh lines around her mouth and eyes, and a heavily scarred area on her shoulder indicating a past accident with fire most likely. He wanted to say he knew her, but he didn't.

* * *

This is the saddest part, in my opinion. He _does_ know her.

I'm telling you now, you can't listen to us all. Just... figure it out won't you?

* * *

He didn't know anything. His eyes traced the smooth line of her nose and cheekbones and lingered on the tiny, faint freckles that spread across those cheeks and nose respectively. He wondered the color of her eyes and wondered if he had horribly and irreversibly ruined her life. He took another step and came to stand over her sleeping form, still so confused and still just as curious, and watched as her body jerked once. Twice. Her eyes beneath her lid began darting back and forth rapidly.

Why he did it, well he just didn't know, but he stepped closer and with a sure hand pried open her eyelid gently, using the faint light coming from the door and window to look in her eye. Unresponsive, was the word that floated through his mind. He didn't have a wand, he didn't know anything that he knew, and isn't that a funny sentence? But it came to him naturally when he propped her up on her side just as she started frothing in her mouth, pushing the blanket off of the bed as if he had a thousand times before. And it felt right, to help. His head as empty as it was, he knew he owed this girl something, but even then he felt as if he would help anyways. It was his job. Then he ran out into the hallway screaming for a nurse and his wand in that order.

What he hadn't be prepared for was a tall, redhead with an angry glare to immediately turn towards him and punch him in the face. He felt bones crunch, he felt skin split, and he felt his empty head rattle.

He might have heard the word 'ferret', 'slimy', and 'asshole' but he could tell you the correct order. His head bounced off something solid and hard and he felt disoriented for several seconds before he found himself lying in a heap on the floor, blood running down his nose.

"The girl," he ground out as his head burst with pain, little stars dancing across his vision. "Seizing." Just as someone shouted, "Mr. Weasley!"

He felt hands on his shoulder and head so he yelled out, "Get the girl, you idiot! The girl!"

The hands left him and he felt as if he had fainted again, but maybe only a moment of two had passed. He blinked open his eyes as he tried to sit up, his stomach rolling dangerously. The tall redhead who had literally knocked him out stood furiously above him, his fists clenched and face nearly as red as his hair. The man's booted foot came up and immediately descended down on Draco's already broken and bloodied nose, more bones crunching, more skin splitting, more pain in his head as it jerked back into the floor. And fear prickled its way across his skin, making him turn on his side and cover up his face in a defensive stance.

"Stop! Stop! That is a Healer! This is a hospital! What do you think you are doing!"

The foot came in hard at his back before he felt soft hands on his face that moved down to his arms, prying them from his curl. Stunned, he was utterly stunned and not able to move even a muscle. Even his stomach seemed to stop churning.

A steady voice called out, " _Episkey!_ " and he felt his nose right itself in a much painful way, his split lip knitting together rightly like a sewing needle was stitching it back up. With a groan, the other Healer helped him up though his torso protested greatly with the movement. "Let us get you back to your bed, Healer Malfoy. Come on now, this way."

He stumbled back into the room he had only a minute ago come running out of and he, gratefully, saw a group of people around the girl's bed. He was guided back to his bed by the Healer that had saved his nose, a short witch with short bright red hair and bright tawny colored eyes that immediately turned around and stuck her finger out at the redhead that had put Draco's ass on the floor. Another man with jet black hair was standing by the redhead, both his hands holding the man back.

"I don't give a flying fuck who you are, Ron Weasley! If you ever assault one of my Healer's again I'll kick you out of this hospital for good!"

"You know who that is right?! Do you see what he's done to Hermione?!" The man named Ron Weasley screamed back. With a surprising move, the much shorter witch grabbed the larger wizard and flung him into a nearby chair with a loud crash, the black haired man stumbling back a step before he righted himself. She ran right up to Ron and jabbed her finger into his chest. "If you didn't hear me the first time I will clap you over both ears!"

* * *

This you can trust me on, okay? This world is violent. All gentleness has fled.

Still... it's sad, isn't it.

* * *

The group around the girl's bed slowly separated, walking away from the bed and leaving the room, the last wizard giving a small hand signal to the tawny eyed Healer before shutting the door behind him.

"You stay in that chair Ron Weasley!" she bellowed before walking over to Draco's bed. He thought it best to ignore the man who had nearly beat him into unconsciousness and instead looked over to the girl's bed.

"Did you get to her in time?" Please, he thought. Please let them have gotten to her in time. Don't die witch... not before I get to see the color of your eyes. The thought popped into his head before he could even understand it.

She nodded. "Thanks for the warning." she said in a much sweeter voice. "Drink this yeah?" and she practically forced a blue-bottled potion down his throat before he could process what she had said. The taste of a Dreamless Sleep filled his mouth as she pushed his body into the bed, her wand waving as bandages appeared around his ribs beneath the long sleeved cotton shirt he wore, and he immediately fell to sleep feeling glad when he realized he knew one more thing.

It was perhaps two days after he woke up the first time, he found himself sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair next to the girl's bed, a girl who was really a woman, who was really a witch, whose name was Hermione J. Granger. He should have realized that when the brute, a wizard named Ron Weasley, had called out her name. But he didn't put it together until the black haired man from before had come in with a briefcase and set it by her bed. He had looked at Draco oddly, his stance saying he didn't quite know how to handle the situation, before he stuck out his hand for a shake. Draco reached forward automatically.

"Harry Potter."

"Draco Malfoy," though what the fuck that meant, Draco had no idea. "Nice to meet you. Unless we've met before?"

"We have." the man named Harry Potter finished the handshake and looked rather put off.

"Not a pleasant meeting then?" Draco ventured forth. His ribs were a little bruised, but much improved after the day of sleep and healing he had gotten. His head still felt unnervingly empty, but nothing compared to the ache in his heart that had showed up on his second day in the hospital. The girl, the woman, the witch was still stained red and though he knew it wasn't blood, only this damned potion, he felt responsible. He had sat next to her bed for hours, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, and wishing she would open those eyes so he could see what color they really were.

His own stain hadn't lessened any either, even when a young nurse had come in and tried a few spells to get it to lighten. It only served to remind him of what he done. Erased his whole life. Even his birthday. He tried to picture his parents, a childhood home, a pet, a wife and kids? Anything? But nothing came to mind, only a dull emptiness that he couldn't shake.

"No." Harry Potter said finally. "Why do you sit with her?"

And how odd was it, to sit with a man you didn't know, but who knew you? Draco didn't know how to gauge the conversation, because he didn't know. Anything. And how was he supposed to explain the sad little ache in his heart that had nothing to do with being injured and everything to do with the fact that he hurt this witch and had the sinking suspicion that he was a Dark Wizard?

"I gathered I'm a … a Healer." he said. "I feel responsible. They won't let me leave anyways." He didn't want to leave but he didn't say that.

It seemed to be enough for the man named Harry Potter so he just nodded and left without another word. And then came back.

"It isn't your fault." he said slowly and pulled out a pinkish looking piece of parchment. "She had a Quick Quills going when it happened. It recorded everything. It was an accident. You didn't do this to her. It just happened."

And that was how Harry Potter turned his world upside down, because his whole world was a red stain and an ache in his heart over a witch he didn't know. But he should have. Damn him.

Harry Potter left him alone with the pinkish colored parchment and the ache dulled ever so slightly. He brought the parchment up to his face and groaned in frustration. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the black wired framed glasses he had found by his bedside when he woke up that morning, put there by a Healer named Susan Bones along with a few potions to help with the headache and bruised ribs. With the frames on the edge of his nose, he began reading the parchment. It was a transcript, dated for 2 days before, and written in a near illegible shorthand. But at the bottom, the words were all spelled out as it began writing down what was happening instead of what was said.

A clumsy lawyer and a desperate healer. At least it seemed as if he had tried to help, and for some reason, at least a part of this witch had wanted to take the potion.

But even that didn't stop the new ache that was spreading in his chest, the knowledge that he had wanted this potion, it was a near killer. "I would take it in a heartbeat." Had his life been truly, really that awful? The evidence was piling up, the idea planted, the suspicion mounted… he was a Dark Wizard. He had to be.

And the itch he got on his left arm... where a faded tattoo sat only got worse with every passing thought. The potion alone was evidence enough, think about all the dark and evil ways it could have been used. It would be dirty in politics, it would be soul crushing if used the wrong way, it was… it was an Unforgivable of potions, and he… Draco had created it. What was worse than murder… This… the total erasure of a person, it was a Dementor's Kiss. It was the end of a life, even if the heart kept beating. His thoughts spiraled out of control, pulling in a million different directions and all of them crushing. The guilt he felt for what he had done, what he had made, sat like a rock on his heart until it started to beat irregularly.

He brought his hand up to his face, removing his glasses, and trying not to cry. He wondered if this was the answer to those truly horrible criminals, did this potion take away all malicious intent from an evil wizard? Could it just leave the guilt and pain? Is that what happened to him? It took everything away, but he was left to feel the remorse of his actions.

What the fuck had he created?!

And it was there, in that moment of total guilt and desperation, with tears spilling from his eyes and his chest quivering with sobs that he wanted to let out but wasn't sure how to function if he did, that the girl, the woman, the witch, the Lawyer, opened her deep brown colored eyes and looked at him.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Don't be worried...

You're just coming in at the end of the story, everything has already happened.

* * *

Quite like waking up after a long, hard sleep, she woke up feeling as if her body was not working the way it was intended to. Stiff and sore and out of order. Especially her head, which throbbed at the small movement of just opening her eyes. The soft light of the room was too bright, though in any other circumstance it would have been fine. Her hair was matted to her head and her knees felt scraped as if she had fallen from a tall tree.

She blinked once, then again, before her vision cleared fully and she found herself looking at a man sitting next to her bed. Sobbing. His hair was a red blonde, thin, straight, and in need of a comb, it reached just past his slightly pointed ears. His skin was pale and his eyes were a deep grey that might have stood out impressively. Except, they were filled with tears and a hurt so deep, she could very well feel it from her bed. Even though her _own_ body was aching something fierce, her head throbbing with every beat of her heart, and her skin crawling with twinges and prickles of sharp pain, it was nothing compared to the sorrow in the man's beautiful grey eyes. And that worried her.

Of course, eventually she could not ignore the pounding of her head, a dull throb that only got worse with every passing second she continued to be awake. Her stomach rolled as the pain that made its home against the back of her skull radiated through her body, traveling down her back, and causing the barest of whimpers from deep in her throat.

The man stiffened, his slender hands jumping to his face and covering his eyes. He quickly wiped away his tears and looked back to her.

When those sad grey eyes finally met her own, she tried to sit up. But again, her body refused to cooperate and she instead released back into her pillow with a groan.

"Don't move." he said to her, his voice thick. "You were hurt. But you are in St. Mungo's now. Do you know where that is?"

She listened to his words and tried to understand, tried to put them together. But trying to organize her very thoughts hurt, and her stomach protested. Though she could barely move before, she had no problem sitting up now, just so she could lean over the bed and throw up. Soft, gentle fingers wove through her hair, pulling it back from her face and she squeezed her eyes shut as she vomited.

"It's okay, let it out. It'll make your head hurt less." And it did, she realized. The pressure in her head lessened and she found herself able to move around more easily. Finishing, she leaned back into the pillow behind her, but managed a somewhat upright position.

"Sorry… What's happened? Are you… are you alright?" she asked, though her voice rasped and cracked with the words, her throat feeling dry and sore.

His eyes focused on hers for a long minute before he said, "You just woke up in a hospital bed, vomited, and then asked if I am the one who is alright?"

She frowned, realizing he was right. But her head felt so empty, all she could really focus on was the image of this man, crying. While he sat next to _her_ bed. "You're crying for me?"

He didn't respond, instead offering her a small white cup full of chipped ice. She took it without hesitation, trusting this man even as she couldn't place him. The ice hit her tongue and melted into a cold soothe that instantly made her feel better and erased the sourness from her mouth, though her empty head continued to feel so odd and dusty, like it was missing pieces and only cobwebs were left in place.

"I'll get the Healer." he stood and walked out of the room quickly, leaving her with the cup of ice and a whole lot of confusion.

Because she had no idea who she was.

Where she was.

Or how she got there.

"What the hell…" she sat the ice cup down on the white plastic table next to her bed and tried to remember how she ended up in a hospital. Or why her fingers were stained with… blood? And it wasn't just her fingers, the strain ran up her bare arms, fading off when it reached the short sleeves of her hospital gown. It was a faded, dusty pink color and when she brought her fingers to her nose, she breathed in the scent of earthy roses and fresh dirt, of roots and humid soil and a faint sour note that took her off guard. But it brought to mind the clang of metal against skull and a soft ache erupted on the back of her head.

"What the hell?" She repeated, rubbing the aching spot gingerly.

The door to the small room opened again, and a train of people walked in. The first was a tall man in long, bright yellow robes who greeted her with a curt nod, a stick in his hand and a badge over his heart that said "Healer Desmond".

The next man was a frustrated, tall and thin bloke with bright red hair and piercing blue eyes. He was quickly overtaken, however, by a petite, softer looking redhead in the same bright yellow robes the first man was wearing, her badge said "Healer Bones". The woman focused tawny colored eyes on her and a total sense of deja vu settled on her chest. The feeling only grew when another man walked in, a man with bright green eyes and jet black hair that stuck out in odd places.

Without a second to spare, the deja vu turned into panic, the knowledge that she should _know_ these people but _didn't_ churned her already fragile stomach and she barely stopped herself from hurling for the second time.

When the crying man from earlier came back to her side, a fresh cup of chipped ice in his hands, she sighed with relief even as she noticed his skin was stained the same dusty color as her own. She automatically took the cup from his hands, but before she could toss back the soothing ice, the room burst into yelling that startled her so badly, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Most of the noise started with the tall redhead, but it was quickly drowned out by the shorter one. Her eyes turned to fire as they rounded on the tall man, and no one would have ever thought so much noise could come from one woman. The green eyed man crowded them into a corner where the fiery duo threw out fast and angry hand gestures and got into each other's faces with their loud bickering.

Looking around, she saw the crying man had looked just as startled as she felt. They all listened as the yelling increased and a lot of words jumbled together. Words like "Wrong-Sider!" and "At Fault!" and a very exasperated, "You've gotta be kidding me!"

It went on briefly until the small woman dragged the redhead out of the room by the front of his tee shirt. And the silence they left was jarring.

A moment passed before the green eyed man turned to her and said, "Sorry about that."

The tone of his voice, mixed with the stunning familiarity of his bright, gem like eyes rattled a name loose from the cobwebs.

"Harry Potter?" she said. And like blocks knocking around in her head, she suddenly remembered a lot of things. Too many things. Things that didn't make sense to her empty head and she couldn't stop the vomit this time. Nor the immediate stabbing pain in her forearm. She felt familiar, gentle fingers holding her hair back and cold air being blown on her hot neck as she threw up yet again.

And then again, her stomach rejecting whatever it could. Leaning back, she immediately looked to the place on her arm that hurt and wondered how on earth she had missed such a loud, horrible blemish that was this scar. Dark purple and carved into the pale skin, the word "Mudblood" spelled out viciously, haloed by the unknown dusty pink stain. She grabbed the arm and looked up to the crying man, who still had his hands holding her hair back. He looked as sick as she felt and the pounding in her head increased tenfold before she passed out in his arms.

* * *

I understand though, you just missed it the first time.

I have the feeling you'll catch up soon though.

Just pay attention.

* * *

The next time she woke up, the light in the room was even dimmer, the sky outside the window a midnight dark and thankfully, her head felt better than the last time she had woken up. Similarly, the crying man was seated next to her bed again, this time his ankle crossed over his knee and his palm propping up his chin as pointed his gaze over her bed. And like last time she asked, "Are you alright?"

His lips quirked up for a flash of a second. "Not at all. But how are _you?_ "

A blink and a shift later, she sat up, pushing the cover away from her and automatically glancing towards her arm. She was surprised to see herself changed into a clean, long sleeved sleep gown. She slipped her stained fingers under the fabric and tugged the sleeve up on her right arm, sucking in a breath.

"What is this word?"

 _Mudblood._

The crying man sighed before saying, "I've learned some nasty things about that word since you last woke up." He kept his voice soft and she noticed a curtain was blocking her from the glass lights on the other side of the room.

"What happened?"

He cleared his throat and blinked his eyes at her before saying, "Apparently I was working on a Memory Forgetting potion, it was barely in the stages of testing, but we both accidentally took a large dosage of it each and now we're here. In St. Mungo's. The cauldron hit your head in the _accident._ "

"Potion…" the word triggered strange flashes in her mind, of falling through a dark hole and colored fires on each side of her. Of damp dungeons and black cauldrons. But she could barely piece it together before it flittered away just as quickly.

As like before, he held out a cup of chipped ice for her which she took with both hands.

"I want to … apologize." he said quietly, his eyes darting to the ground in shame.

"Come again?"

"I wanted to apologize." he said again, a bit louder this time. "They have ruled it an accident, but honestly it's my fault you were in the situation to begin with."

She looked at him and slowly ate her ice while mentally trying to pull apart the cobwebs. "I'm sorry… did you say potion?" she asked slowly.

His eyes narrowed in thought and that same sense of deja vu from earlier came running back. She had seen this before too. She knew this man or… maybe not. "I suppose…" he began but quickly shook his head. But then he looked horrified.

"What? What is it?"

"You don't remember you're a witch?" he asked, leaning closer.

"A witch?" she laughed out. "What?"

"You're magical." he insisted. "I can't believe it made you _forget you're a witch!"_

"Magical? A witch? You're joking. Am I in a mental hospital?"

"No, no. The word… it's a derogatory word for someone who born to nonmagical parents." he gestured to her arm and they both looked at the scar. She put a hand to her head and groaned, trying to remember if she had parents.

"Why do I believe you?"

"I guess you shouldn't… after all I took the potion too. I have forgotten a lot apparently."

"So we're both victims?" she asked.

He paused as if he had never considered that, then nodded. "They said, well, there's the transcript too… but they said you were a lawyer. You seem smart enough."

She ignored the compliment. "Transcript?"

Pulling out the pinkish parchment, he handed the transcript over to her. She held it up to her face and squinted at it badly. "Uhhh."

With a small laugh he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his own reading glasses. "Try these I guess?"

She took them with a frown, her pinkie finger just brushing against his index finger as she did. With the too-big black wire frames on her small face, he suppressed the urge to smile and he didn't know why, or why his finger was tingling.

"That's much better thank you." She read for a moment.

"It's good to know some things never change." a new voice said. They both looked up to the doorway, seeing the green eyed man from earlier and new face she didn't know. He was tall and lanky like a reed, with dark brown hair and eyes that matched. He wore what she would describe as an expensive suit and he wore it well.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking at him over the frames on her face that felt comfortable there, though they were too big.

The man smirked and headed towards her bed, leaning in to kiss her forehead gently. "Hermione Jean Granger, you are not looking yourself at all darling."

She squinted at him in thought. "Hermione? Is that my name?" It sounded _right_. If that made any sense. Which to her it didn't but she had a feeling if she thought too hard about it, her head would start to hurt again and the taste of sour throw up was still in her mouth from earlier.

"Honestly!" the man gasped dramatically. "She's been given a memory forgetting potion and no one thought to tell the witch her own _name?"_

"I was going to wait to see if she could remember it herself… especially after she remembered mine." the green eyed man spoke up. He sat down the chair opposite the crying man's. She remembered then.

"Harry Potter." she said slowly. Because the last time she said it out loud her head split open.

The three men around her all wore varying emotions on their face. The crying man looked confused, the tall man looked impressed, and Harry Potter looked smug.

"I'm flattered you remember me when you don't remember your own name. Hermione?" he said, reaching out a hand and placing it over her own.

"Are we… family? My husband maybe?" she ventured, wary of anything that would trigger her head to hurt again.

Harry shook his head of jet black hair quickly. "No no… no way."

"There's something wrong with me then? That you wouldn't marry me?" she snapped.

The tall man laughed heartily. "Hon, you've been saving his ass since he was 11, I'm not surprised at all you remember his name when you can't remember your own… but the bloke is already married."

"Oh." she said as Harry nodded, the tips of his ears going red. "Well then who are you to me?"

"Me?" the tall man asked with a dramatic flare. "Theodore Nott, fellow lawyer and, dare I say, good friend you've had many a drink with."

At her blank look, he dipped low into a bow.

"Well… at least you aren't yelling." she said.

"I told Ron to take it easy, but he gets rather worked up. Forgive him." Harry Potter said.

"Ms. Granger, how are you feeling this evening?"

The short red headed woman from earlier walked in, a handful of colorful vials in her arms, the badge over her heart said "Healer Bones".

It was odd to her the name Granger, she thought, knowing it was her name but not recognizing it right away. It felt wrong.

* * *

It wasn't true. Anymore.

* * *

"My head certainly feels a lot better. If we could keep the yelling to a minimal though, I would appreciate it."

"Ahh, you may not remember it but Mr. Weasley and I built our marriage around our mutual love of yelling at each other." and she winked a tawny eye before coming around the hospital bed to deposit her armful of supplies on the bed side table. "I'm Susan by the way. Susan Bones-Weasley."

She didn't know how to respond to that so she didn't say anything, instead focusing on the parchment in her hand. "You can't even read the first half of this transcript."

"You don't understand it? It's written in your short hand." Harry said to her.

She frowned. "No…" The lines of letters were shortened too much to make any kind of real understanding out of, and she certainly didn't recognize it.

"Hermione, are those Draco's reading glasses you're wearing?" Healer Bones, Susan, asked, gesturing to the tip of her nose.

"Draco?"

The crying man gave her a small wave. She looked over his pointed face and tried to place it, but nothing came to her empty mind. Except... a warmth."Nice to meet you then, Draco."

"HA!" Theodore burst out, before he slapped a hand over his mouth. "Apologies."

"I needed some assistance apparently." she mumbled, holding the parchment up, and ignoring the awkwardness that came from Theodore's interruption. "Do I have my own somewhere?"

"No, you refuse to get your own. You say you're too young to need reading glasses."

She shook her head, repressing the urge to say "I am" and instead said, "This is a bit much."

"We will give you some time alone then. Come on Harry, darling." Theodore said patting Harry Potter's shoulder gently.

It was then that Susan popped one of the vials, a fat purple colored one, open with a loud noise that drew their attentions. And only a second later that the smell hit her nose and with it a huge wave of nausea.

"What is that god awful smell?" she slapped a red stained hand over her nose and tried to breathe through her mouth, which immediately began watering. Though her head didn't hurt, she looked around frantically for some place to vomit, because the smell churned her stomach like nothing else could. Susan dug into a pocket of her yellow robes and produced a small shaped bag that she took with snatch and hurled into immediately.

"Is your head still hurting? Any pressure?" Healer Bones asked, corking the vial again and pulling out a wooden stick.

"No." she shook her head and tried to will away the sour taste in her mouth. "I'm not sure why, but my stomach just couldn't take that smell… whatever that is."

And immediately Healer Bones and Theodore shared a look. "What? What do you know?" Harry asked.

Theodore leaned in and whispered into Susan's ear. With a glance at Draco, Susan waved the stick over Hermione and a moment later a pale, blue glow shined just over the space on her stomach.

"What is that? What is happening?" Hermione pushed the covers off fully and saw the light continued to hover just over the hospital gown she was wearing.

Everyone in the room looked at her with shock, including the new face at the door, the tall redhead from earlier.

"Congratulations, Ms. Granger." Susan said in an odd tone of voice. "It's a boy."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

You can't possibly still be lost?

Well, read on and think about what Theo says.

* * *

It was downright uncomfortable to watch the softer expressions on Hermione's face when he was so used to her no nonsense-almost-frown or the hard glare she gave when she wasn't getting her way. He had spent many, _many many_ , silent moments studying her perfect face and memorizing each and every one of her signature looks. His favorite face was her "Lawyer" face, as he called it.

The witch was a shark in the court rooms and she had the stare to go with it: her dark eyes would focus just right, her expressive eyebrows would arch just the right height, her lips would pucker just enough to distract her prey while she would dart in and take everything they had. It was… fucking amazing. She was so adept at using her coy look to trick both her own clients and the poor suckers they were up against. It didn't stop there, either. She dressed sharply and wore heels 10 miles long, so no one could get a height advantage on her. She never lost her temper even if she didn't get her way, which… face it, sometimes that happened, no... instead she got even.

And sometimes, she rained hellfire.

It wasn't the only look of hers he loved. Whenever she was getting her way, her deep brown eyes would lighten just a touch, just enough that he called it a secret smile, secret because only her closest friends really noticed it. And sometimes, if she was mad at you, she got the same look in her eyes when she was about to get even. It was the only warning he would get.

He hadn't been her friend as long as the others, so he had taken to the hobby of studying her expressions with zeal, he didn't want to be at a disadvantage when it came to this witch.

The first case they had worked together, Theo had been mad as hell. He didn't want to work with her, _hell no_ , he had begged not to work with her… she had a reputation around the office: Merciless Bitch. She had eaten greater men than he for breakfast. She walked over greater men than him. They had a history! What were the head honchos thinking pairing up the famous fucking _Right-Sider_ Hermione Granger with the desperate but rich _Wrong-Sider_ Theodore Nott? Except, they were the honchos at the head for a reason and suddenly his success rate was going up, and Granger was getting the cases she wanted. And everyone knew to give Hermione exactly what she wanted. She admitted, sometime months later, that she really enjoyed his company and that had been a surprise to both of them… not that he could tell by her facial expression.

Watching her work, realizing her skill and dry humor and seeing how much the war had truly damaged her, add in a few very dry martinis and some peanuts, and suddenly, somewhere down the line, they became friends. Work got a little less hard for him, got a little more fun. Life got a little less angry, got a little easier. Even if he had to make friends with that prat Ron Weasley, it was worth it to have a friend like Hermione. She was snarky and jaded and smoked cigarettes when no one was looking, but she was smart and determined and damn good at her job. And of course… he had gotten to know Harry Potter in the process.

He had made the sacrifice of befriending the prat, so she had to come around and make friends with a friend of Theo's.

And that's when it really started.

* * *

You remember what I said, don't you?

Don't believe everything you read.

* * *

She met him on a cold Friday night with her Fuck You heels clicking against the bar floor and her pleated skirt shaped perfectly to her perfectly shaped ass, and he put two martinis in her before signaling Malfoy to come over.

She had an olive in her mouth and a cigarette between her fingers when her dark eyes finally landed on his friend and, surprise surprise! He loved the way those eyes narrowed like a blade and even more… he loved the way Draco had stumbled back a few steps while losing his drink down his shirt. The night hadn't ended pleasantly, in fact it had ended with a drink in the face and a very cold ice cube in the bra, though Theo was amused from the first minute of the evening and it led to the idea that much more fun could be had. So he set up more meetings, 'conveniently' forgetting to mention that Draco was going to show up whenever he met with Hermione and vice versa until neither one of them trusted Theo anymore with so much as a coffee date.

But the damage was done. The ball was rolling. And Theo couldn't stop it, or predict where it would go either.

The next time he saw them together, Hermione's almost frown was closer to a real frown and Draco's eyes were pinched and avoiding her… shamefully. A couple of weeks after that, he watched as Hermione bumped into Draco "accidentally" and Draco purposely "avoided" her the rest of the night. And the time after that, he watched as Draco nearly put a hand on Hermione's shoulder before awkwardly excusing himself to go the restroom, and the nearly almost frown was nearly an almost smile on Hermione's face.

And before he knew it, some years had passed with the two of them hiding what was between them, and no one else noticed except for Theo and Theo's boyfriend. It was when his birthday had arrived on a hot summer day when he let himself into Draco's fancy city apartment to pour himself a glass of the most expensive firewhiskey he could that he could confirm what he already knew.

He called out for his friend and opened the door to the bedroom, from behind which he could hear the end grunts and moans of real pleasure, only to see Hermione Granger straddling Draco Malfoy, their bodies connected in the most intimate way, both of them sweaty from exertion, a cigarette in Hermione's hand and a ever so pleased smirk on Draco's face. Neither of them had noticed Theo's arrival so he watched as Draco ran his hands up Hermione's thick thighs and he listened as Draco spoke.

"You're safe, Granger. You're safe." he said in the soft musical tones of a lover. A lover well known.

And then Theo watched as Hermione's lip trembled ever so slightly and she leaned over to the bedside table, stubbing out her smoke, and the two reached for each other. Draco turned them both over, coming on top of her and began again. The new position showed Theo something even more unexpected: the duo had matching tattoos. An intricate dagger, the hilt embedded with an square shaped ruby and emerald, the curve of the blade wicked, the tip dripping gleaming red blood. It hit Theo right in the heart, these two and found in each other a way to fight their past. The way they moved together… it looked like a God and a Goddess coming together when they know they shouldn't, and together they shook the Earth to the core. A _Right-Sider_ and a _Wrong-Sider_ coming together in a moment of pure light and love, and it was fucking beautiful. It was what love looked like. It was what this shit world needed more of.

The dark of Hermione's hair and eyes looked perfect against Draco's paleness and it was the first time Theo could ever remember feeling like he wanted a woman for himself. They just looked so right together. And Theo could only think about how his eyes shined through the dark room and her eyes looked like wet mud before they turned to him and her expression turned to amusement.

"Theodore."

"What the fuck did you just call me?" Draco said, rising up to look her in the face and then he followed the direction of her eyes and they were both looking at Theo.

"What the fuck Nott?"

"Don't worry I've seen what I wanted to see, many thanks!" and Theo had gone home and had fucking amazing birthday sex with Harry Potter and confided in his boyfriend what he had seen. Though the couple carried on like they weren't, in fact, a couple… Theo and Harry knew. And it became a fun game to make them as uncomfortable as they could possibly make Hermione and Draco feel. Teasing them… pranking them… and none of their other friends were any wiser about it. It was a secret game. Hermione and Draco acting like Theo and Harry were going bonkers, and Theo and Harry acting like Hermione and Draco were breaking some ancient law by being together. It even got heated sometimes. Harry and Theo knew better than any how much flack the world gave them for being a _Right-Sider/Wrong-Sider_ couple. People didn't care that they were a same sex couple. No they cared that Theo had been on the wrong side and how dare Harry Potter for accepting a _Wrong-Sider_ into his bed and heart after everything he had been through.

People were assholes. But he didn't give two shits. He had a challenging and fulfilling job and a fucking amazing boyfriend and a fucking amazing friend in Hermione Granger.

But now… when Theo had heard what happened, he had rushed to the hospital as quickly as he could. The last week or so had been a frenzy in the media, the news about the damn potion sent people completely over the edge. And he had no idea it was Draco who had developed the potion.

"Bloody hell." Harry Potter said from next to him. "Hermione, you're pregnant?"

Theo watched the soft and innocent expression, even though confused, frown ever so slightly and still it looked nothing like the friend he remembered… until…

She tensed up, her hand coming to her chest as she took a hard breath, like the very words had triggered something in her.

"Ms. Granger?"

And for a flash, Theo saw his friend, the shark, the kick ass lawyer, the Merciless Bitch that took no shit from anyone but as quickly as it had showed up, it went away and left behind a screaming witch who quite literally had no idea who she was.

She clutched at her head as her eyes rolled back and she screamed. And screamed. And worse… cried.

"My head! My head!"

"Okay visiting hour is over, everyone out!" Healer Susan snapped, drawing out her wand and doing complicated movements Theo couldn't follow. But while Susan had basically said to get out, neither Harry nor Theo had moved an inch. The sight of a screaming and sobbing Hermione, desperate and in pain, had them both rooted in absolute shock.

Hermione never cried.

But Draco, who wasn't really Draco, had no such notions of what Hermione used to do or used to act. He stood up and immediately, with zero abandon, freaked the fuck out.

"Help her! Oh fuck!" he shouted, tripped over his chair, and banged his already damaged head against the railing at the end of the bed. He stumbled back up, clutching the side of his head but at least he had shut up. And Theo suddenly felt very bad for the wizard. The potion had such two different effects on his friends; Draco remembered things from his past. Things like Quidditch and how to perform magic. He didn't remember learning how to play Quidditch or learning how to do magic, but he could do it. He remembered things like his robe size and shoe size, but he didn't remember his family or his part in the war. He had designed the potion with his horrible life in mind, and magic always had weird effects when you weren't watching. Being able to properly test the potion might have meant he would have, eventually, figured out the potion was geared towards him but… alas… fate and intervened and royally fucked everything up.

Meanwhile, the potion had just hurt Hermione. Physically and mentally, her brain was on the edge… and now… they were seeing a consequence of that.

Hermione screamed, her hands clutching the strands of her dark brown hair, her mouth wide open in agony. "My head! What's wrong with my head! What's wrong with me?"

And Theo watched on, horrified, and possibly for the first time in his life at a loss for words. He brought his thumb nail up to bite, remembered he wasn't supposed to bite his nails and dropped it again only to bring it up and bite into it with fever. He wouldn't survive this witch. No way. No how. And he thought about what he knew of her.

It wasn't that Hermione had been tight lipped about her past, it was that she was a witch in her mid 30s that had been through hell and back again, and Theo respected that. He had never pried, never asked what she had gone through. It was more than the stigma of being a _Wrong-Sider,_ he knew. She had closed off that part of her so it wouldn't leak out into the world again, and that was where it would remain.

Even in the heat of summer she wore long sleeved shirts to hide the scar on her arm most people knew she had. He had heard it was a gross purple color that reeked of magic, and he had never seen it… until now. It was worse than gross purple, it was a nightmare purple that bit into the pale of her skin and looked fresh, like it had only happened the day before instead of nearly 2 decades ago. And didn't that just piss him off? But he couldn't say a goddamned thing because he was, and always would be, a _Wrong-Sider_. And now he was watching his best friend sob in agony and he couldn't do anything. He couldn't do a _fucking goddamned thing._

She arched her back, clutching at her head, screaming herself hoarse, fighting her own mind until sweat and a red flush broke out across her skin. She ripped at the hospital gown until it split down the middle and revealed her torso… and revealed another scar.

"What the fuck." Theo barked out and Harry turned, burying his head into Theo's shoulders. The door opened and slammed shut behind them and Ron Weasley walked up, his fingers curled into fists.

"What the fuck." he said, repeating Theo's words.

"Ron don't interfere." Susan said from her place by the bed, her wand waving frantically and sparks of magic falling onto Hermione as it went. At any other time, it might've been pretty.

But nothing could take away their attention from Hermione Granger.

She fingered the line of the scar, gasping for breath that wouldn't come and he just stood there as she suffered. And her other best friend just fucking stood there as she fucking suffered. And his boyfriend, her _fucking best friend_ just stood there… as she fucking suffered. And Draco… who had once upon a time been the light in her life that drove the darkness away, wasn't who he was supposed to be for her. And neither of them realized how tragic it fucking was.

"What's happening to me? Why does it hurt?!" she cried and her fingers dug into her skin like she wanted to rip it off. Like something was trying to get out.

And that's when he wondered what the hell this untested memory altering potion was doing to her and what kind of vile shit was being unlocked in that fucking brain of hers. What kind of darkness was being replayed in her head that she didn't realize had happened to her before?

The war had done enough damage… was she fucking reliving it?

And… god fucking forbid… he wondered if she would make it out of this alive... And at the tail end of that thought, Theo watched her eyes light up. Not in thought. No, those dark brown orbs turned into a blazing glossy splinter of her own deep brown and a bright bronze that shot out of her eye sockets like rays of bitter sunlight and the entire time she screamed as she clutched her scars.

Then, like a light going off, her eyes returned to normal, her body relaxed, her screaming stopped.

"I got it… I got it…" Susan stammered out.

Hermione turned, curling an arm under herself, her body shaking with the memory of pain. Her unreadable eyes darted from Ron to Harry and then to Theo. She breathed shallowly and no one said anything for an entire minute. And Theo watched as the soft expression he was so unused to slowly turned into something familiar. His friend. The Merciless Bitch. But she was in pain.

"Where is he?" she finally said. "What happened?"

"Where is who?" Ron asked.

"It felt like Susan was knifing her way through my brain…" she said in a quiet voice, her eyes going cloudy and her hand rubbing the flat of her belly.

"You remember me, Hermione?" Susan asked, her wand still in the air.

"Of course… everything is back though… it isn't in the right order I feel like…"

"I tried Legilimens. It was the only thing I could think of."

"It worked… well… it only made one thing clear." Hermione said softly, her body still trembling. "I remembered Sirius Black."

"My Godfather? What?" Harry said.

"He said once… I remembered you telling me he said 'The ones who love us never really leave us'. I don't know why, but I could hear that very clearly and then I remembered taking the pregnancy test and doing the spell… And all the sudden, everything hurt and I could remember everyone else…"

Theo sucked in a shocked breath as he listened to her speak and he felt Harry's weight sag into him. "She remembers. Thank fucking God."

"We were so worried about you 'Mione." Ron said.

"Of course she would remember, she wouldn't forget her loved ones."

She smiled sadly, then lifted the hem of her hospital gown and gazed at the tattoo just above her hip bone. "Where is he? Why isn't he here?"

"Where is who?" Ron asked again.

"Hermione…" Harry said softly, nodding to Draco on the other side of her hospital bed. She slowly turned and looked up, meeting the warm grey eyes of Draco, and broke into a smile.

"Draco. You're here… why didn't you say anything before?"

He shuffled awkwardly. "You know me?" and to Theo, it felt like a bomb had dropped.

* * *

Maybe that'll clear some things up...

Or maybe not.


	5. Chapter 4

Thank you everyone for all the great reviews and for all the people who followed/favorited my story so far! Sadly, for the first time in my entire fanfic life, I had to delete a review because of how unbelievably small minded and foul mouthed someone got with me over my coupling of Harry and Theo. So, if you don't like my fic, don't read it. It's simple. If you live in a world where love has a strict definition, that's fine... I feel bad for you but it's fine. Just don't call me names for believing in love. Also I had a question about Hermione's smoking. It's 2016, everyone knows it's bad for you to smoke cigarettes. Everyone knows it's bad to drunk call your ex at 3 in the morning, but it still happens. We do things the younger version of ourselves would never think of doing and sadly, in this story even though our favorite trio won the war, the war still got the best of them.

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

* * *

If Theo didn't make it clear, maybe Ron can.

Oh who am I kidding?

* * *

His wife was bloody pissed at him, but what could a bloke do? His best friend was in the hospital, maybe even permanently if they couldn't fix what had been done to her, and it was his job to keep the peace. Once upon a time, it had been his job to protect 'Mione. But he had learned quickly that she could protect herself just fine and she didn't really need him, not for that anyways. In fact, there was very little she ever needed from Ron Weasley, but he had her back anyways. Always. So he would keep the peace. Literally, the Ministry had ordered him to keep the protesters from spilling out into Muggle London AND keep them from disrupting the hospital. Because there were about 50 or so witches and wizards in a group just outside the entrance to St. Mungo's, some carrying signs, some holding their wands up with a _Lumos,_ and a select few looked ready to do damage.

He had gotten a few friends from the local police to set up a road block and spread a story that there was a gas leak, and what the hell a gas leak was he would have to ask 'Mione… or might not… _damn._

It had been 'Mione's idea in the first place for him to try to get friendly with the local law enforcement, unlike in the past when the D.M.L.E. would just ignore Muggles when they could. It was a lot easier for him to get a couple of 'in' friends to set up a road block than Confund anyone who happened to come down this street. Way easier. As head of the department, Ron had been setting precedents and changing the way the department did things since he took the position when he turned 31. And just like the previous 20 years of his life, 'Mione had been there to advise and guide him down the right paths to the right decisions. He couldn't imagine what he would do without her. Or her chicken alfredo.

"All over a bloody potion." he muttered, waiting in line at the cafeteria. Some pudding and then he was heading back to the reception area, to tell the protesters _again_ that there wasn't even potion left! It had been accidentally used! And they needed to get the fuck outta here! He had way too much to do, way too much on his mind, to deal with the lot of them.

So far, the event had been peaceful, thanks to his group of men, but if violence started up then Ron was going to have to call in backup and take them all into the Ministry. And what a bloody nightmare that would be. There was only so much room back at the office and - bloody hell - it would take days to process them all. They better not try anything. He had his men in place, but he knew first hand! Magic made you do funny things… especially in numbers. If that wasn't enough to occupy his mind, he had to think about his best friend since he was 11, Hermione Granger, lying in a hospital bed without any of her memories. All of their adventures when they were young, trolls in bathrooms, midnight trips under the invisibility cloak, walks to the owlery and then later… _the fucking war…_ As if all that hadn't been bad enough, the aftermath of war was just as bloody and deadly… just due to a different kind of enemy. The Ministry of Magic had imploded and the community had split. Fucking… _Right-Siders_ and _Wrong-Siders._

The enemy was _dead._ Voldemort was _dead._ That was what mattered! Not what side you had been on!

And what 'Mione had been through… blimey. When it was over, the dust never settled. They just pretended to be okay. Him, her, and Harry. They finished school and got jobs and grew up as best they could while being drowned in fame and fortune and society split itself into two groups, didn't matter if you were good or bad, smart or dumb… all that mattered was what side you had been on. Ron had been on the right side. And his bank account showed it.

And what's that just fucking funny? He had grown up poor and wanting and dreaming for a big pile of money to fall into and now the pile was very real and very large… and he would give up every last knut if he could just live a quiet life where he and his friends hadn't gone through the hell they had.

He would give it up if it would help Hermione right now.

He loved her.

Not in the way a man loves his wife, no. Not _that way._ But in a best mate kind of way, except Harry was his best mate. Ron couldn't explain it. He loved her, but _not_ like he loved his wife. He wanted her safe. He wanted her sound. He wanted _a pudding!_ Finally.

"Mr. Weasley? The protesters are getting a little… uh … riled up."

"Ah alright, I'm coming." he said, slipping the little pack of pudding into his robe pocket.

It was a short stairway to the bottom floor, and two receptionists gave him a shy wave. The giant windows showed the London street outside and a group of people that was way louder than the last time Ron had been down here. They were chanting now… who knew what they hell they would end up summoning if they kept up with all these shenanigans.

"What the hell do they think they are doing?" he asked, spreading his arms open in a over dramatic questioning gesture.

"Just stirring up trouble I guess." one of the receptionists said.

He shook his head and stepped out, amplifying his voice. "OI! You lot! I told you once already, don't make me tell you again! THERE IS NO POTION! And the bloke that made it ACCIDENTALLY TOOK IT! HE DOESN'T REMEMBER HOW TO MAKE IT ANYMORE. IT'S DONE. Go home you wankers!"

They rumbled and cried and stuck their tongues out, er - maybe not - but Ron turned around and make his way back upstairs and felt glad they were a lot quieter now.

What was a bloke supposed to do? It felt like anytime he tried to help, all he did was make things worse. When this whole fiasco started, all he wanted to do was avenge 'Mione by punching in the ferret's face. He was the one who did it to her anyways, it was his fault she had taken the potion in the first place. And everyone seemed to be under the illusion that it was an accident. What a load of dragon shit. It was _fucking_ Malfoy. Sure he was Theo's friend. But Theo wasn't an asshole, at least, not a big one. Malfoy _is._ A big one. So what if he had been a little… aggressive. It had felt good to punch him. Until his wife yelled at him.

Again.

When he first met Susan Bones, after school that is, he had barely recognized her. He and 'Mione had been out, book shopping (because what the hell else did 'Mione do?), and they saw Neville eating ice cream on a bench with a woman he didn't know he knew. He tried to make a joke and next thing he knew? Susan Bones! Yelling at him! For being sexist! He wasn't sexist! He loved women… bloody hell. Somehow he'd come out of it with a date. 15 years later, here he is with a wife and 2 kids. 2 girls, Ellie and Lona, and the both of them looked like their mother and acted like their aunts 'Mione and Gin.

He shook his head. Guess he didn't make that one worse. But Malfoy still deserved to be punched. Definitely. Totally. Yeah.

He just didn't know what to do now and he really was worried about 'Mione. That red stain on her skin gave him the creeps, and doubly so whenever he caught a glimpse of Malfoy with the same stain. He didn't want _anything_ connecting the two. 'Mione deserved better. She had been there through thick and thin with him, she stood on his side at his wedding. She was the godmother to his kids. She had even taken the blame for his smoking addiction (which had pissed Susan off to no end). But Harry and Theo knew it was actually Ron who got her started on them.

She deserved way more than the stupid ferret messing up her life. Who the hell wants to take some potion to forget your bloody life? Honestly, all those people outside were fucking mental. Granted, if he were the ferret mind you, he would take that potion. Or Avada himself. It would be a mercy, honestly.

When he left the room earlier everything had been fine, well, as fine as they could be. 'Mione had been sleeping and the ferret had been _crying!_ Ha! Well he kinda had a sniffle or something. A girly sniffle. Ha.

But now he could hear cries coming from the room and he had the sinking feeling it wasn't the damn ferret. He found himself jogging the last steps to the room and banging through the door.

There was his wife. Working her butt off, waving her wand like a master Healer, looking amazing as she did it.

And there was 'Mione. Screaming her head off. _God fucking damn it mother fucker._ She was in pain… so much pain. She was _crying._ 'Mione _never cried!_

"What the fuck."

He was going to _kill_ the ferret. What the hell had he done? And had he done it on purpose because at this point, Ron wasn't sure he hadn't done exactly that!

* * *

Do you believe?

* * *

Damn this is complicated. And it was starting to get really horrible, watching her in so much pain. Not even the ferret tripping and banging his head on the railing at the end of the bed made him feel any better. Harry, standing by Theo, couldn't even look. And he didn't blame him at all. It went on until her eyes did a freaky glowy thing and then she stilled. Immediately he looked at his wife, looking for any signs that he should be worried, because Ron just didn't know how to handle this situation.

Susie looked drained but alert all at the same time and her eyes darted from 'Mione to him.

 _What the hell is happening?!_ He mouthed at her.

 _Fuck if I know!_ She mouthed back in that sassy way of hers.

 _Why the hell not?!_

 _I think you're going to be really angry in a minute…_

He barely caught that one, but caught when Hermione said in a feeble voice, "Where is he?"

"Where is who?" he asked, looking around. All the important people in her life were here already… he looked back to Susie.

 _What do you mean I'm going to be really angry?_

 _I don't know for sure! But…_

His eyes darted back to Hermione, he watched as she lifted the torn piece of her gown and revealed a tattoo on her hip. He knew she had gotten inked, but he hadn't seen this one before. "She remembers. Thank fucking God."

"We were so worried about you 'Mione." Ron said, though he was confused as hell…

 _Susie?_

"Draco. You're here… why didn't you say anything before?"

His face screwed up and Ron truly worried it might stick that way. She called him… Draco!?

"You know me?" the ferret asked.

"What the hell is going on?!"

"Ron… don't be angry now…" Susie said, walking to him. "Hermione is… pregnant."

"Er-"

He found himself sitting down in a chair, though how the hell he had gotten there… the idea that 'Mione… pregnant… he was shocked. He couldn't breathe! His throat was closing up! He couldn't die now, he had too much to live for!

"He's in shock." Susie said from above him, her hand on his forehead. "This is just like when I told him I was pregnant the first time. And the second time."

"Pregnant?" he asked, his voice squeaking at an octave higher than his voice normally sounded. "'Mione… you have to have sex to get pregnant."

"Well deduced, Ron." she said from her spot on the bed. He looked at her and a new thought popped into his head rather unpleasantly.

"Who've you been having sex with then?!"

'Mione sighed, her hand on her hip, and looked up at the ferret…

Why would she look at him? Why was _she looking at him?!_ "No…"

The ferret... Draco fucking Malfoy... his skin and hair was stained a dirty red color from that _fucking_ potion and yet... he looked so different. It had to be the stain. Maybe. But he was looking at 'Mione like... he shook his head. He had started to feel pity for the poor bloke but now...

"I'm going to be sick... No no no… Wait… at lunch couple weeks ago… you said… you were seeing someone…"

"I said no such thing, Ronald. You guessed that I was seeing someone and I never denied it." she said, sitting up further and pulling the thin hospital blanket over her torn gown. Harry reached forward to help her get comfortable and Ron thought he should've helped too but he was just too bloody shocked!

"Don't you lawyer me right now, 'Mione!"

"I'm not, I simply clarified!"

"Ron, you are freaking out. Calm down mate." Harry said, adjusting a pillow behind 'Mione's back. Ron looked between his friends and his wife and the idiot ferret. "Calm down? But why aren't you more surprised by this?" he asked slowly.

'Mione looked at Harry expectantly and Ron felt a little relief that maybe Hermione was still the same woman he knew, and was about to yell at Harry for a change and then maybe this would have all been a big joke. After all, Malfoy was being eerily silent while this all happened... sure he had lost his memories but surely he would be freaking out after just finding out he had gotten a girl pregnant? Yeah... yeah... this would all turn out to be a big prank and Malfoy was just the poor sucker with no memory caught in the middle. Ron felt totally relieved... Until 'Mione said, "You might as well tell him the whole story. He's going to find out anyways."

Harry sighed, Theo sighed, and then Susie sighed. "What... you knew too?!" he cried at his wife.

"No but I figured it out didn't I!" she snapped back at him, reminding him entirely too much of his mother.

"Who else knew? Knows? Bloody hell!"

"I knew, I walked in on them one day." Theo shrugged.

"Theo told me, and then it was easy to spot with how they acted around each other." Harry admitted.

"Theo told me to do the Pregnancy Check and I figured it out when he was looking at Draco." Susie told him.

"I think the only person who doesn't really know is him." 'Mione said sadly, gesturing to the silent Malfoy. They all looked at him, standing still by the window, his face scrunched up in confusion. He hadn't said anything in a really long time, Ron realized. He opened his mouth as if to say something but he quickly shut it.

"Maybe he's in shock too." Susie said, walking over to him and gently guiding him into the opposite hospital bed."Sit down Draco. I'll get you some more ice."

"Malfoy... it'll be okay." Hermione said gently and yet determined. "I'll fix it. I'll find where you kept your research. I can fix this."

Her vow silenced the room and Ron felt like he could deal with this... Hermione was obviously herself again... it couldn't be any lingering magic from the potion... or could it?

* * *

The potion played a part, sure...

Is Ron actually making any of this clearer?

* * *

"'Mione... you sure you remember everything?" he had to ask.

"I believe so..." she said slowly, her eyes squinting. "It feels like it is in the wrong order though if that makes any sense. It needs time to right itself. When Susan was in my head, I felt like my memories were trying to reach her just as much as she was trying to reach them. It hurt a lot. My head is still aching."

"I have something for that." Susie said, coming back with ice. She handed another set of potions to 'Mione as well, though Ron barely noticed. "These shouldn't upset your stomach, but if they do let me know. Someone's going to bring up some hot food for you. I think you need it."

Then Ron thought of something else. "'Mione! You said... at lunch... you said you were happier than you had been in a long time..."

Hermione winced. "Again, not what I said. _You_ said that and I just… happened to agree with you… for once." she said, rubbing the back of her head as she took the first potion.

He harumph'ed but slowly he was getting used to the idea that 'Mione was dating... it would just take some time to get used to it being with Malfoy.

"I... I will tell you all about it..." 'Mione said to him, and maybe to Malfoy too. "I'm sorry I kept it a secret for so long."

"How long?" It was the first time Malfoy had said anything.

Everyone looked from him to Hermione, desperate to know the answer. She squinted again deep in thought. "It's like trying to wiggle the memory from my head..." she shook her head then, her hair going in all directions. "5 years, this Halloween will be 5 years since it all started." She ran her hand over her flat belly, pushing at the covers. "I'm 10 weeks pregnant. I was going to tell you... but then I got that damn request to legally define the difference between your potion and a Memory Altering Potion, which is illegal. You caught me off guard... I had no idea you were working on it..."

It was silent again for a long minute. And for real this time, Ron felt bad for the bloke. He looked like he had swallowed slugs, and Ron knew exactly what that felt like.

"So… I'm going to be an uncle?" he said, breaking the silence.

"Honey, you're already an uncle." Susie said, patting his shoulder gently.

"Oh yeah... well I meant again... And you're happy Hermione?"

She fingered the tattoo on her hip, the dagger sharp at the tip where drops of blood fell steadily. They morphed around her finger when she obstructed their way. She looked at Malfoy and said, "I was."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

Just remember what I said.

Everything has already happened, you're just coming in at the end.

* * *

It took another day before they let Hermione go home, which was impressive, even for her. She went home, showered, ate a hot meal, and came back exactly one hour later dressed to the teeth and demanded Draco Malfoy be let out into her care.

That took 15 minutes.

Hermione _usually_ won her case after all. Maybe people didn't realize why, but a war and growing up in the aftermath of that war made Hermione the kind of people you didn't _deny._ And this time there wasn't much anyone could do. Draco Malfoy had memory loss, but he wasn't an invalid. And so far, he had proven he wasn't violent. Even without his memory, Harry could still see the poor sod was in love with Hermione. Even if the poor sod didn't realize it. Again, you just didn't _deny_ Hermione J. Granger. Harry always had had low opinions about Draco Malfoy growing up... he couldn't imagine a scenario where the boy crying in the boy's bathroom in 6th year could deny anything Hermione, adult Hermione anyways, wanted.

It was nice to have their relationship confirmed, not that he didn't believe Theo right from the start… he just wished Hermione had told him. One night, after the Anniversary Ball the Ministry liked to throw, Draco Malfoy had walked up to him and asked if they could speak for a brief moment. It had been the first words spoken between them since the Battle of Hogwarts and Harry admitted to being curious. He had especially wanted to approach Narcissa Malfoy but hadn't really gathered the courage or the know how to even Owl her after the war. He had hoped to run into her but well… later he realized why that had been unrealistic.

So when Draco asked to speak with him he was all for it. Somehow they had ended up drunk at a Muggle bar and found themselves being oddly cordial towards one another. There was a lot of pain after the war, a lot of blood and Harry hadn't been the only one who hurt. He realized Malfoy suffered just as much, if not more. So they drank and ate cruddy bar food until they parted, not as friends but no longer enemies either. Later, Harry found out, it had been because Draco and Hermione had begun seeing one another. They played a slow game, the two of them. Shocking at first, but it started to make sense. Especially when Harry found Theo.

Theodore Anacus Nott. A Slytherin lawyer _Wrong-Sider_ who had made friends with Hermione but who Harry hadn't crossed paths with until later.

Theo came with a lot of baggage, raised with the kind of family Harry had grown up with for instance, the kind that didn't abuse him out right. But a neglectful abuse that was made worse by his years in school and war he was on the wrong side of. Baggage like being an orphan at 15 and not knowing if you were sad or happy about it. Baggage, including a friend named Draco Malfoy.

When he bumped into Theo on his 30th birthday, exactly 3 years after he realized he was kind of gay, Harry honestly couldn't place where he knew him from. He had just seen something familiar in Theo's tired eyes(something he saw when he looked in the mirror every morning) and asked him out. Harry didn't want to be friends with Draco Malfoy, but found it odd how they ended up in each others lives after so many years had passed.

It had been a little more than a year after he had gotten together with Theo that Ginny had finally come back from her decade long travels abroad. She had come back tanned and happy, had cut all her hair off and gotten a few tattoos and told everyone at Sunday dinner she was pregnant with some Italian asshole's child and she was keeping the baby. Mrs. Weasley had fainted.

The first time Artie had called him _Dad_ , Harry nearly fainted too. The boy had dark hair, though not as black as his own, and pale skin like his mother used to have. And a lot of people assumed the boy was Harry's. Though, one time, Artie called Theo 'dad' too. And _that_ had made Theo cry a bit. A year, a year was all it took for him to have a family, a real one.

By now, Harry had a routine. He stopped by to pick up his takeout Chinese food once a week, dropping off food for Ginny and Artie. He would eat his hot and sour soup and spend some time with Artie, his godson, before taking the rest of the food to Hermione's where Theo would usually meet him. Today he decided to do nothing different, though Hermione had barely been home from St. Mungo's for a few hours. Ginny was glad for the update and Artie was excited to show Harry his new toy broom. Ginny even had a small snitch she charmed to fly around the house, but at low height and speed so Artie could keep up. The kid was doomed to be a Seeker.

But when he Floo'd to Hermione's house, he was surprised to find Draco Malfoy sitting in the kitchen, hunched over his tea cup looking battered and scared. Harry had never seen him there before, though according to Theo the two lovebirds practically lived together. He set the takeout bag down on the kitchen island next to the sulking man and wondered out of the room looking for Hermione. It really had been a stressful few days for her, and if Harry knew Hermione(which he did), she would rather put on a strong face than ever admit to needing help. He found her in her study, the lights were dim even though she was reading over a stack of papers and she had Draco's reading glasses on again. An ink stain was on her lips and while her Quick Quill was zooming across her notebook beside her, her regular quill was in her right hand zooming just as fast.

Nothing strange about that. What was strange was that she hadn't heard him come in and knew it was going to be bad when she realized he was there. But the quicker he made himself known, the quicker she would get over her panic. He said as gently and softly as he could. "Hey Hermione."

But still, her entire frame tensed though her Quill was replaced with her wand so quickly he barely caught it. "It's just me." he continued. "Just Harry."

Her chest rose with a forced breath and he stood absolutely still letting her come to herself in her own time. Silently, he took the moment to thank God Umbridge was locked up for the rest of her life for what the foul creature had done to Hermione. It had made 5th year pale in comparison.

* * *

The great thing about Harry Potter is... well...

You can trust him.

* * *

It took longer than she had needed usually, but she came too and narrowed her eyes at him.

"I didn't hear you come in." she accused. He remembered the bitter year after the war, remembered what happened to her, remembered the blood in her eyes and on her hands. If it hadn't gotten better afterwards, he might've thought they should've lost the war. But it _did get better._ Eventually. He wondered how much of that was because of her secret relationship with Malfoy?

"I didn't mean to be so quiet. But no one else can come in, Hermione. Only me, only Ron, and only Theo." he assured her. No one else. No _Wrong-Siders.  
_

No Umbridge. No reporters.

She dropped her wand onto the desk's surface and stood up. "I know. I'm sorry. You startled me is all."

He didn't approach her, he let her come to him.

"Is he still crying?" she asked.

"Who? Malfoy? I don't think so. Was he crying before?"

She nodded and he realized her own eyes looked a bit red. He never saw Hermione cry. Not since she was a girl. Not even after the war, when… everything else happened. She had healed, physically, wiped her hands off and gotten to work. "I told him about Narcissa. He doesn't remember her, but he started crying. I hate it, Harry. I absolutely loathe it when he cries, because it makes me want to cry with him."

He slowly, and obviously, raised his hand to place on her shoulder. "You love him. I cry when Theo cries."

She sighed at the touch and he took it to be a good thing. "But… He remembered that he was supposed to be sad. It got me thinking about how to restore his memories."

"That's good isn't it?"

She hesitated and took a step back and for the first time in a long time that he could remember, she looked vulnerable. She hadn't even looked that way in the hospital. Then she said, "I'm afraid it'll be painful for him… like it was for me. Even though this potion has had such different effects on us. I don't… I can't…" she stumbled over her words and Harry had the jarring realization that she had never had problems forming a sentence before like this. Hermione always spoke well.

"Hermione, you know I am useless around crying women."

She shook when he hugged her, and he resisted the urge to tighten his arms. "I need a cigarette." she mumbled into his neck. And then laughed.

"Well you certainly aren't getting one from me." he told her.

She nodded. "I know, I don't really want one." she rubbed her stomach over her shirt.

"Well I do have..." Harry, using slow movements, reached into his pocket and pulled out a candy quill. "Might this help?"

She grabbed at it with quick hands, tearing off the package and sticking the candy in her mouth. "Gods yes. Thank God for you Harry Potter."

"Tell me about Malfoy then." he said.

She shook herself and he felt odd. But the secrets were past them. Finally she took the candy out of her mouth and started. "I can't let him go through anymore. He may not remember but I do. Harry I do. I remember. When his Father finds out what happened, assuming he hasn't already, I can't imagine what he will do first. He'll do what he can to get his claws back into Draco, try to turn him back into the son he wanted. I know it..."

"You know I won't let that happen. I won't let anything happen to you or Malfoy." he assured her.

She sighed in relief. "I know. I _know that._ It's just..." she took a deep breath. "Oh Harry, Draco has been through too much. He's been a bad guy since he came to Hogwart's and that isn't who he is. Underneath it all, he's a _good_ man. When his mother died... when Astoria and..."

"Shh. It's okay. It's okay, Hermione." Harry interrupted her, he had to. He couldn't stand the way her voice was wavering. He kept his hands firmly on her shoulders and she nodded looking more like herself.

"Right. Harry, Draco Malfoy is a good man. I... we cannot let Lucius get Draco back. He was not pleased when he learned about Draco's relations with me…"

"Wait he knew?"

She hiccoughed and avoided his eyes, her cheeks turning even redder under that ugly red stain the potion left. It had faded since Harry first saw it, but it was no worse than actually seeing her cry.

"He knows… because... because of... because we..."

"Just tell him the truth, Hermione Granger." Harry turned his head towards Malfoy's voice. The man had spit the word 'Granger' like it was a curse, like he had done as a boy. He walked to them carrying a glass of water, his own eyes watery, and took Hermione's shaking form into his own arms, after setting the glass down on the desk.

Harry was surprised by the easy touching between them. Draco guided her back into her seat and began wiping her tears away with the palms of his hands, the way Harry did with Theo sometimes. He hadn't hesitated, he hadn't used caution, and yet Hermione didn't flinch. Harry had never seen anyone able to touch Hermione so easily. Not since school.

A slow game, Harry thought. They played a slow game.

Malfoy held her cheeks and she brought her hands up to his wrists, her tears fell over his fingers.

"I'm literally a moron." Draco said to her. "I know _nothing._ My head is empty and it hurts, but even I can tell you've been holding onto these secrets for far, far too long. 5 years that you and I have been in a relationship and the last year we have been-"

"Please I'll tell him. Please." she begged and that's when Harry noticed an odd little black dot on one of Draco's red stained fingers. He only noticed it because Hermione had the same, on the same finger, that he had seen a million times. But maybe that was just a coincidence… or not. He wondered what they had been up to. The last several days had been full of surprises so he sat himself down in one of the practical chairs across from her desk and waited for another.

"It's okay Hermione. Just start at the beginning, tell me whatever you want. Susan said it would help, remember? Maybe it'll help Malfoy too."

She sniffed and Malfoy still held onto her. "All right."

"Here, drink some water." Malfoy said.

She gulped it down automatically and Harry wondered how well that order would've gone over if _he_ had said it instead of Malfoy. The moment Draco's hands left her she shook herself and rubbed at her eyes desperately. And Harry marveled at how different she was around him, he had almost forgotten. Softer. More emotional.

"I'll be… just in the kitchen." Malfoy said slowly and made his way out of the room.

"No stay. It might help you." she insisted.

He took the seat next to Harry and folded his hands across his knee. "All right."

Hermione had one of those swivel chairs and she turned away from them then, taking a moment to herself. When she turned back around only a minute later, her eyes were clear and her face was still.

"I'm sorry I lied for so long Harry."

"You aren't on trial Hermione." But somehow, when she started talking, in her lawyer voice no doubt, she didn't talk to Harry.

"I might as well be. It was September 1st, five years ago. Raining and storming a bit and I went on lunch at my usual time and I ran into you." she nodded at Draco and her face softened again, just slightly. "You weren't pleased to see me. But it was a coincidence. We ended up going to the same place on our lunch break. And you took the last chocolate chip cookie. You weren't the same as I remembered, but you were still haughty. But we both walked away without any harm done. And then it happened again. I didn't think you would go back to the same sandwich shop again, not after our first encounter. But you had thought the same of me.

"I told a joke and I thought you were going to choke on your food. You nearly died and you were very angry with me. But I put you in your place when you said something rude to me. The next night, another coincidence, Theodore decided he wanted to 'reintroduce' us and you almost shit your pants at the sight of me.

"That night you put an ice cube down my bra and I couldn't believe it."

"I did that?" Malfoy said, breaking through the story.

She nodded, smiling. "If you had been nice to me, I wouldn't have bought it. instead you spent the next couple of weeks torturing me. Even when I went to lunch at different times, you still beat me to the chocolate chip cookies. We were so mean to each other, but not like at school. It was, we played a game. A competition. I didn't realize it at first but you were teasing me. And no one had ever done that before, not to me, not if they wanted to keep their head. But it was different. We _were_ different. After that we were both interested and scared for it, but we agreed to keep it hidden.

"After some time had passed, no one knew about our relationship and you and I changed. I got better with you and you got… happier. Better. We were better."

Harry swallowed and kept silent while Hermione looked at Malfoy for a long time. "What happened a year ago?" he asked finally.

She sucked in a breath. "Oh Harry… it was just the binding ceremony. We were going to come out with the truth and really have a celebration we just didn't know when... We just wanted to be together, without all the complications. Without the fucking _Prophet_ running articles. They just love running stories about him, the _Wrong-Sider_ that went straight. They would have a field day if they knew were together. Neither of us wanted the attention."

He watched her, felt his brow furrow, and wondered if she would explain before he understood what she meant… _binding ceremony?_ She did.

"Oh Harry! We got married!" and she held out her ring finger, the finger with the little black dot, the one he had seen a million times and thought nothing of, and she grabbed it like a zipper without the zip. It opened and revealed a wedding ring.

"Hermione…"

Shocked, he felt his mouth open but no other sound came out. And then he watched Draco place his left hand over Hermione's, and she brought her right hand to his little black dot and did the same thing, revealing a solid silver wedding band. Harry felt his pocket grow warm, heard the Floo open and close.

"Married." Malfoy said, gripping her hands tightly in his own. "We're _married._ You're pregnant with my child. Tell me why the fuck I would invent a potion to take away my memories of that?"

"I didn't know you were making it and I don't think you would have _chosen_ to forget me." she gasp out, her face going red again and Harry almost said something about the way Malfoy was gripping her. He knew how she was about touch… and yet…

Theodore came up behind him.

"Why are you touching her like that, Malfoy?" he snapped but Harry held him back. They hadn't even noticed Theo.

"Why were we _willing_ to take it? Why? That's what the transcript said. That's the word that was used: _Willing._ " Hermione and Malfoy ignored them, Harry and Theo. Malfoy jerked her up and Harry felt himself come to his feet about to knock the shit out of Malfoy for daring to handle Hermione in such a way… except Hermione didn't flinch. She didn't tense up. Didn't cry out, instead she fought back and almost looked happy about it and both Harry and Theo noticed.

"There is a difference between willing and wanting." she said desperately, gripping Malfoy closer to her. "Draco. Draco, I don't blame you. I don't, I didn't know you were making it and I can't tell you why you were making it. _But I don't blame you._ "

"But you're mad at me. You're mad at what I did." he growled out. "And I don't know why! I don't know anything!"

Hermione wasn't a soft person, she always erred on the side of logic which was often a cold way of life. But here, and now, Harry watched as she gentled Malfoy with a warmth he had forgotten she possessed and somehow they had switched places. Malfoy leaned back in the chair, gulping down water as he attempted to calm down and Hermione stood over him, rubbing his wrists with her fingers.

"I am mad. But I'm an adult and I'm not going to take it out on you. Just, can you imagine how I felt? I went to work like nothing was different and then I get this request for legal help from St. Mungo's for _your_ potion. Apparently you had been working on it for over a year, Draco. And you didn't mention it to me. That's why I'm mad, all right? When I arrived at the hospital you called me by my first name which you only do when you want something and you acted like you couldn't tell how pissed I was at you."

Harry found Theo slipping their fingers together and he turned to look at his boyfriend, hating the sad frown on his face and hating the whole ordeal that put it there. Theo had enough to be sad about. Hermione had enough that she had gone through. He was suddenly getting very angry at Malfoy.

"Oh Draco… I knew we would probably have a huge fight about it later so I just went into lawyer mode, I didn't want to be there any longer than necessary and then you started teasing me like you do. I think you knew how mad I really was, because you started telling me the truth. That the potion was your responsibility, that it was in the first stages of testing. When you told me what it did, just as you knew I would, I was so damn tempted to take it. Forget about the war and forget about my parents and forget about fucking Umbridge! And that's when I forgot I was mad at you and you damn well knew it too. You started buttering me up." she panted with her speech and then hit Malfoy hard in the arm.

"Damn it all to hell Draco Malfoy! You know how clumsy I am! When I bumped that cauldron you should've just left it alone! Instead you made it worse, you spilled it all over us by accident and I can't make heads or tails of your research to fix this!"

She looked ready to do violence and Harry felt the urge to do something, anything, to make this better.

"Hermione." he said.

The witch jumped three feet into the air, turning back to them. "Theo! Where did you come from!?"

He hadn't meant to scare her, she had just been so caught up that she had forgotten he was there, but he saw the appreciation in her eyes. She had been losing it, and it had been a very, very long time since Hermione Granger had lost it.

Then Theo spoke and ruined everything. "The office. Lucius Malfoy wants a word. When your secretary refused to give him an appointment he started causing a fuss."

* * *

What do you believe? The first narrator wasn't very clear.

I know I'm not much better...

Oh well. It's hard coming in at the end, and having all the pieces thrown at you...


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

You may not be so confused anymore, but there is more to know.

* * *

His stomach churned much the same way it had been for the last few days, ever since he woke up confused and stained red in the hospital. He had learned quite a bit about himself over those days, but it was as if he were learning about a character in a book rather than himself. It all seemed surreal, and far fetched. A magical war based off blood, and a division in community that tore a hole in the world, he had learned. A hole that was taking a very long time to fill back up. He learned why some people referred to him as a ' _Wrong-Sider'_ and why that man, the redhead, had punched him out as soon as he had left the room.

And he was learning about secrets.

But still, even now, it seemed like a sour joke someone was playing, even as his stomach churned in that unpleasant way it had been, reminding him that he was a bad guy, who did bad things. Surely that much tragedy couldn't happen to one 34 year old man? And yes, 34, because someone had told him his age but couldn't tell him his birthday because he didn't celebrate it.

He didn't know how to take that information. What could have possibly happened to make a man stop celebrating his own birthday?

And his body shook at the idea that he had so much more to learn about his past, and that it may be just as bad as he thought, that he couldn't stop the churning in his stomach no matter what. Because tragedy had happened, to him, and the fact was that much, much worse had happened to this witch. His witch, with her long golden brown hair that curled at the ends and her deep brown eyes he couldn't stop thinking about. His. All his. And he couldn't remember her at all.

When she had discharged from the hospital, he worried he would never see her again, his insides twisting at the very thought. He was drawn to her, and so curiously so. He felt protective of her, her and her stunning eyes that almost seem to hypnotize him at times.

As soon as she had left the hospital, people started coming to see him. Reporters and potion makers alike, and they all wanted to know about the potion. What did it do, how was it administered, when could they begin mass production?

And he could only think about what his witch had said before she left. The way she had leaned down towards him, her eyes immediately catching his until he thought she could command him and he would obey always. In a whisper she said, "Pretend. Pretend you are Draco Malfoy who knows how to make that fucking potion and grew up on the Wrong Side of the war. You're snarky and mean and rich and arrogant. Don't tell anyone about us. No one should come in here, but if they do throw a fit and get them out. That is what you do, that is what you _have to do. Understand?_ "

So he did. They came in and he snarled and sent them away rather efficiently. He was surprised at how easy it was, how naturally it came to him, to snarl and quip and point his nose in the air like he was the biggest man in the room and had every right to boss them around.

Only one reporter was ballsy enough to ask a question as Draco literally pushed him from the room.

"Did you really lose your memories?!"

"Of course I didn't." he snapped and slammed the door shut before the man asked a question he wouldn't have an answer to.

 _Throw a fit and get them out._

He did as she commanded. He tried to work out why she wanted him to pretend he still had his memories but hardly had the time to think on it. His witch returned a bare hour later, much to his delight. And she looked better, dressed up and make up on and healthy looking. Not at all like she had just gotten out of the same hospital only an hour before.

 _Why,_ oh why did he create that blasted potion? What kind of life did they have? Were they happy in love? Or in love despite it all? Fuck... he loved her. He knew it and he didn't know why.

He could tell her head was still bothering her, though what made him think that he couldn't pinpoint. She threw him a small leather bag and told him to get dressed.

"Where am I to go?" he asked, pulling out a pair of black slacks and a dress shirt. She had brought him a pair of shoes made of black leather and a belt that matched and it all smelled faintly of her, and a sturdy wooden smell he couldn't pinpoint.

"Home of course." she snapped at him. She had stopped at his office on the way out, grabbing all of his research and demanding the hospital staff to send anything else they found her way.

She was brilliant.

Scary.

But brilliant.

Home of course she had said. It turned out to be a cozy cottage nestled between trees and bushes and even a large boulder and was almost impossible to see. There were no other houses or roads around that he could see. Only trees and more trees and the falling leaves that accompanied the time of year. Secluded. A small stone path indicated where the front door was, but it was covered mostly with mud and whole house was nearly camouflaged and he found himself impressed.

The front door was made of a dark, near black, hardwood that smelled familiar to him and had a brass knob that warmed when he touched it. He stepped inside and took a big breath, smelling the heady smell of rosemary and wood and loving every bit of it. Heavy brocade drapes covered all the windows, all of them done in different hues of greens and browns. It made him feel like the forest was inside the house as well as outside it. The furniture too, was all warm colors and inviting throws and pillows. It felt like a nest. A safe place.

The heavy door had shut behind them and he turned and felt a myriad of emotions he couldn't identify. His witch visibly relaxed the moment the door was bolted shut and locked with her wand, and her eyes caught his in that enthralling way they did. He wanted to drop down and worship her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to sob. He wanted to understand. He wanted to strangle himself. She had the faintest red color still, just a brush of it over her cheekbones, which arched gracefully under her mesmerizing eyes. They were bottomless, a dark brown pool that got only darker the closer to the pupil.

As much of a mess he felt, she looked completely put together. Expertly brushed on makeup, her hair up in a way that showed off her long neck, her cream linen suit fitted and professional under an expensive coat. And still he wondered why he noticed little details like that. Why did he take in everything about her? Because he loved her?

She snapped her coat and hat off and walked out of the room. "I'll make some tea. I'm sure you have questions for me, now that we're alone."

He heard the soft clang of metal on metal, a kettle being put on the stove. The chime of delicate teacups being handled. He ignored the pounding in his heart and slowly wandered through the house, looking at his home. _Their_ home? Home of course she had said.

This house lived in the shadows of the leafy trees that hid it. Behind big bushes that concealed windows and doors. If you weren't looking for it, you would miss it. Hidden, just like their relationship?

He walked through an open door and found the kitchen, done in warm yellows and greys. An island separated him from his witch, who stood at the old fashioned gas stove watching the kettle slowly warm up.

"Questions?" she said, breaking the silence.

"Just one." he said miserably. "Why?" he flopped into the chair closest to her, a bar stool that kept him head level with her.

She turned and her face hardened. The question was loaded, and he felt the heaviness of it spread between them. "I don't know Draco. I… suppose it could be because of your mother, whom you loved very much. And her passing was very painful for you."

"Were were together then, when… when my mother passed? 5 years you said. It started 5 years ago." he scolded himself for his poor sentence structure. For his scattered thoughts. For putting himself in this position.

"Yes, we were together then. And yes, we've been together for 5 years now... I didn't help much when it happened, you were angry at me for a long time. You and I started seeing each other only... " she paused and looked at him for a long time. He could only return her stare, not knowing how to read the situation, because who would?

"Draco, before you and I started dating, you were married to another witch. She died in childbirth and took the child with her." she said in a quiet voice.

It felt like a punch to the gut. "Your bedside manner is atrocious." he choked out, his stomach rolling violently.

She didn't miss a beat. "Yes it is. That is your job, not mine."

She turned away from him then, and a moment later the kettle began its whistle. "So… dead wife, dead child, dead mother. I guess those could be justifiable reasons for making that potion."

And yet… he had the faintest idea, the fuzziest image of warm grey eyes that weren't his own. And then a punch in his gut felt worse than before.

"My mother… tell me about her." he said, as his witch turned to him again, kettle in hand. She poured the hot water into a teapot with silent focus. But he saw the tension in her shoulders, the pinch in her lips, as slight as it was.

"I don't know much about her, Draco… I know she helped Harry once. I know she hated me for what I am. And I know she loved you dearly. So much so she gave you her mother's ring to give to me."

"Ring?"

He watched as she ceased the gentle movement of her hand steeping the tea, brought her other hand close and - he missed it. Some sleight of hand movement, it was so quick. But a generous ring revealed itself on his witch's left ring finger. He took in the details of it immediately, the large cut of diamond surrounded by black pearls and smaller diamonds sat perfectly on a band of silver, silver that looked faintly tinted with green.

His witch. She truly was.

He knew, in the back of his mind, it was important that they hadn't _told_ anyone about their relationship. He knew he should be concerned at the secret keeping, especially if they were married. But for some reason, that fuzzy image of grey eyes was the only thing he could focus on.

She would know, he thought, his witch would know. She would know why he didn't celebrate his birthday.

"Hermione Granger? When is my birthday?"

"Oh Draco…" and the fuzzy image of grey eyes morphed into softer blue ones, filled with tears and lost hope.

* * *

Don't ask for more. It's too sad.

No one should ever hurt that badly.

Or lose that much...

* * *

They cried together for a bit. Cried for his lost child, and lost wife. For his mother. He cried because he wanted to know _why._ Why would he, why _did he,_ make that potion that completely upturned his life with a witch named Hermione Granger? Mostly he cried because his witch was crying, and somehow he knew she cried because he was too.

Until finally she got up and took his research with her and disappeared into another room, leaving him to his scattered thoughts and running nose.

Someone came and he didn't notice until he heard the murmur of his witch's voice through the walls and he decided he wanted to know why and he wanted to know it _right away._

Then he felt time speed up, felt himself get up and walk into his witch's study and heard himself demand answers all without his conscious say so. As if he weren't the one guiding the broomstick or the horse beneath him, someone - something - else had taken over.

He was rough with her, and he hated the way his voice sounded. But _damnit_ he wanted answers. He wanted them ever since he woke up in the hospital, but it felt like he only received more questions to his questions. Until another one popped out of his mouth.

"Who is Lucius?"

* * *

Take a moment to refocus.

Almost at the end now.

* * *

She was aching and tender from the sordid week she had had, her heart thumped painfully from when Harry had scared her. She had forgotten all about him, and she didn't even notice when ever it was Theo showed up. Truly, all she wanted to do was curl up with Draco's research and find a way to fix him before anything else happened. She wanted her husband back, and she wanted to _forget_ that she had forgotten about him, even if it was for such a short period of time. She considered herself lucky that Susan had snapped her out of the potion's red haze when it had. If she hadn't thought to cast Legilimens…

She wanted to answer his questions and soothe the wrinkles that were between his eyes, because Draco was vain, and she didn't want anything to make him feel like he was getting older. She wanted to soothe him with her body, and ease the ache that told her it had been over a week since they had last had sex. Would they ever share a bed together? Would he ever tease her until she blushed, read her poetry while they ate in bed, even the silly little jokes he would leave for her on the edges of notepads or pieces of parchment?

She wanted a damn cigarette.

If the years after the war had taught her anything, it was that she had grown harder while he had gotten softer. The death of his mother, his wife, his unborn child, all happening so close together could have taken him in a different direction, could have broken him down. Instead he had fallen into her arms, and she had held onto him like a lifeline.

Even with the obstacles they had to hurdle over, their relationship had somehow, someway, never been in doubt.

Of course, Lucius Malfoy had been several of those hurdles. The broken man had tried his best to bring Draco down with him over the years, and nearly succeeded several times. Lucius had never made anything easy when he popped up in her life, why would he start now? Ironically, the very thought of the older Malfoy had her eyes finally drying, and a sense of determination she had been lacking returned.

She had purposely ignored the Prophet earlier when she had returned to her home, a little cottage tucked safely away on an unplottable bit of land her Muggle Grandfather had inherited decades before she had been born. It had been lost in a pile of paperwork in her father's study until she had found it the day after her parent's funeral.

Now she could only imagine what drama the Prophet had turned up in her week's stay at the hospital, and what kind of droll uninformed _bullshit_ they had written about her husband. She wasn't the least bit surprised to hear Lucius was causing a fuss at her offices. He wanted his son, he wanted a Malfoy Heir. It had been the only way he consented to Draco marrying her and the one thing that kept his silence on the matter: that she would produce an heir to the Malfoy name. That meant a boy.

Hermione, and Draco, had known about her inability to conceive at the time, but she had signed the contract regardless. Likely Lucius had known about her health issues at the time as well, because what had happened to her hadn't been a secret, but Hermione had enjoyed the way his eyes lit up when she signed the contract, his face plainly telling her he had her where he wanted her. The marriage would be void if she could not produce an heir, and Healers and Muggle doctor's alike had told Hermione she was incapable of getting pregnant thanks to the destructive damage Umbridge had done to her shortly after the Battle of Hogwart's all those years ago. But she had signed the contract anyways. Because it said nothing about adopting, and Hermione enjoyed the idea of bringing all sorts of orphaned children into her family under the name Malfoy.

If the Prophet had mentioned at all that Draco might've lost all his memories, Lucius would pounce on the opportunity to bring him back under his wing, divorce the useless wife that couldn't produce an heir, and get him back on the "right" track as Lucius saw fit.

She looked at Draco and smiled her shark smile, the one she knew made people quiver in fear of her, and the one she knew Draco liked the best. "He's a fucking moron." she told him to his surprised face and she enjoyed the look Theo gave her.

She straightened up and marched up the stairs to her bedroom, determined to change first and then face Lucius with a win in mind. Because she had the biggest ace of all, she thought as she rubbed her stomach affectionately, and for the first time since she found out she was pregnant, she was excited to be a mother. Especially when her baby was already defying that smug bastard that was her Father-in-Law simply by existing.

She stepped into a pair of sheer tights first and then into a fitted linen suit in a blood red color that was professional and loud at the same time. She waved her wand and replaced the Make Up charm on her face and then slipped her feet into the black heels that put her at Draco's height, and therefore, she thought happily, just an inch taller than Lucius would be.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked from behind her, and again she wished she could just stay inside this house with him until he was fixed, until he remembered just how much they loved each other. If he had been himself, he would be playing with the tips of her earrings and teasing her for the heels. He would be doing his absolute best to tempt her out of her clothes.

"To deal with your Father." she paused at the wrinkles between his eyes. "I want you to promise to stay in this house. Lucius isn't one to be underestimated. The house is unplottable, and inaccessible to anyone through the Floo except for very few. As long as you don't leave, he won't be able to touch you. Especially after I take a meeting with him. Harry and Theo will stay with you just in case."

She didn't know why she had been crying earlier. The idea of a baby boy slowly growing inside her stomach filled her with a sense of hope she had never known before, of course she would fix Draco… otherwise her child wouldn't know his father. Of course she would take care of Lucius, otherwise her child wouldn't have his family.

Of course she would come out on top of this situation, she had no other option but to do exactly that. For her, for Draco, for their child.

Harry stepped into the room behind Draco and tried to hide his surprise at her wardrobe change. "Er - Where are you going Hermione?" he asked. Ron she thought, Ron would go with her. She only need one guard, because any more than that would tell Lucius she was afraid of him. And she wasn't. Not even a little bit. She was going to stomp him under the toe of her stiletto and enjoy every second of it.

"I'm going to take Ron, and go to the Ministry. I'll take care of Lucius, and after my meeting I'm coming right back here because I have an idea on how to fix Draco."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

 **The Healer and The Lawyer**

I'm glad you stuck with it, glad you understand that not everything is always as it seems...

That sometimes, even the narrator gets it wrong.

Sometimes...

* * *

Harry and Theo were concerned, and Draco scowled at her but remained silent. Ron was more than willing to escort Hermione to her office, eager even when he found out she was meeting with Lucius Malfoy. He was the right choice and she knew it. The name had surprised him at first, until she spilled her secrets. She thought for a moment he would explode, judging from the intense red shade his face turned. But a wife and two daughters had him controlling his temper better these days and he simply shook his head and mumbled under his breath about mental witches and the things men did for them.

They met at the house, his proper robes on and his red hair combed back, before they took the Floo to the Atrium together. She ignored the angry look on Draco's face, both familiar and not, as she followed Ron through the fireplace. She had been prepared for a media mob to immediately pounce on her, but she hadn't realized the scope of their mission.

The Atrium was completely full of reporters, and the moment they realized she was walking towards the elevators they crowded her until she had nowhere to go even with Ron keeping them back. They yelled questions at her and the noise echoed through the room. They demanded answers, they begged for information, they pushed and pulled. They still had time before the next day's paper came out after all, and everyone wanted to know about the potion.

A week ago, Hermione had woken up expecting a regular work day to present itself. Instead the day took her to St. Mungo's, into her husband's office, and into an epic mess she wasn't sure she could climb out of. One week, and her secrets had revealed themselves in the most unexpected fashion. Now her closest friends knew her deepest secret and her husband was no longer hidden away from them, only hidden from himself.

One week, and nothing would ever be the same.

She swallowed and kept her face neutral. Flashes of previous moments just like this one flooded her mind, aching just as much as her never ending headache. Her being pressed by reporters, the loudness of a quill scratching against paper, questions being shouted at her. _What can you tell us about your year on the run with The Hero Harry Potter? What happened with Umbridge? How did you end up alone with her? How do you feel about the engagement announcement between Ron Weasley and Susan Bones? Hurt? Rejected?_ Always pestering her, always getting the facts wrong and out of order.

On the run with ' _The Hero'_ , when they had been running from the very Ministry that hunted them. Alone with Umbridge, when the toad-witch's own team had trapped her? No, she hadn't been alone. But she had been the last one standing. Had she been hurt by Ron's engagement to the love of his life? Hardly, she had cried in joy for her friend. The media _always_ got it wrong in their search for the truth.

And it had annoyed her to frustration. But now… The sad part was that she could not tell them the truth if she wanted to protect Draco.

Her initial reaction would have been to blurt out the facts: the potion was a dud, Draco messed it up and hadn't had time to properly test it. That Draco was accidentally under the ill effects of that dud potion and was unable to replicate his research until he found his memories again. But that would put him in danger of Lucius. If she lied…

Not a stranger to the persistence of the media, she signaled them to be quiet. Ron kept a firm hand on her shoulder and it steadied her. She could do this. She had to.

"She is late for a meeting, she doesn't have time to answer your questions." he snapped at them in his authoritative tone.

It was an old tactic, but it worked every time. "I'll just take a few questions then." she said, gaining their support. The first one was easy. "The potion, if working as intended, would allow the drinker to purposely rid of specific memories. Handy in cases of trauma or abuse."

"Is there more? Can the Healer who invented the potion make more? Who is the Healer?"

"The Healer, _my_ client, is Draco Malfoy. He only had a small amount ready to go into testing and there is currently none left."

"There are rumors that Healer Malfoy no longer has his memories, can you confirm Ms. Granger?"

And the lie. She didn't miss a beat. "I can confirm that Healer Malfoy _does_ have his memories, the only effect the potion had on my client was a week in St. Mungo's with a stomach ache. If you'll excuse me, I'm headed for an important meeting."

Ron ushered her into the nearest elevator and they both watched the gate shut with relief. When Ron opened his mouth to talk, she pressed a finger to her lips in the universal sign to remain quiet. The little nooks of the elevator were full of paper birds, all watching and listening, eager to take back information to whichever party they were activated by.

The post Tom Riddle world was more paranoid, to say the least. She pointed at the most obvious bird and settled for the rest of the ride. When the gate opened to the Law Offices, they both stepped out together and walked down the hallway to Hermione's main office, her name written in bold on the double doors. Before she could go further, Ron stopped her. "I just need to know you'll be okay, 'Mione."

She nodded, understanding. "I will be okay, Ron." and she pushed the door open to reveal a seated Lucius Malfoy waiting for her.

His long, white blonde hair was pulled back with a sturdy leather tie and his formal robes looked clean and pressed. A file rested in his lap and he did not stand to greet her, instead he angled his cane across the arms of the chair.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy." she greeted cordially, stepping behind her desk promptly and gesturing the the side table. "May I offer you water, tea… coffee?"

She pulled her wand out of the secret pocket in her suit and set it to heat the coffee.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Granger." his lip curled in disdain at her mention of the strong beverage he had long ago made clear he disliked. _It was a filthy Muggle drink_ according to him. "No thank you, I am fine."

The doors shut gently behind Ron as he took a stance with his arms crossed, his jaw set.

"Ah, I thought this to be a private meeting, _Ms. Granger?_ "

Not responding, she instead shrugged off her coat and hung it from the coat hook nearby. She took her time organizing her desk, bringing out her own file from the top drawer after a distinctive tap of her wand, then gently lifted the carafe of coffee and poured the dark liquid into a summoned mug. She sat into her chair with care, sipping from the mug as she spread her file out in front of her. Then she leveled her stare on her Father-in-law and tapped her left fingers gently across the wood of her desk. He missed when she revealed her ring and it glinted happily in the fake light coming from her fake window on the wall to her left. His eyes lingered on the green tinted band, his lip relaxing from its curl at the sight of the ring previously owned by his late wife.

"I am not speaking to Ms. Granger, am I… Mrs. Malfoy?" he sent a glance over his shoulder to Ron, obviously expecting a response. When none was given, he turned back to Hermione and resumed his disgusted lip curl.

Smiling, she set her mug down and began. "We can start with the vaults if you would like," she said pushing a copy of her Marital Contract towards him along with a fresh copy for him to sign. To further irritate him, she also used a fountain pen instead of a traditional quill. She circled the vault clause. "Under your direction a third of the Malfoy Vaults in Gringotts will be set aside into a savings account for the Baby Boy Malfoy upon the date of his birth… with a percent amount added every year until age 17…sign here if you will Mr. Malfoy."

She kept her voice professional and her face neutral even as she watched his eyebrows raise in surprise. "What on earth are you speaking of, girl?"

"Oh? I had assumed this is what this meeting was about? My happy news." she plastered a full tooth grin on her face and spread a hand over her abdomen dramatically.

His eyes darted between her ring and her stomach, lips pinched together while she felt immeasurably pleased with herself and her son. "You can't be…."

"Since you are not allowed a wand anymore, I can have my friend Ronald perform the charm for you. Ron, if you will confirm my pregnancy for my Father-in-law?"

She had to give Ron credit, he only hesitated briefly before walking over and taking his wand out. With a slow wave and a gentle phrase, the area over her stomach glowed blue and bright for the room to see. It faded after a moment leaving Lucius looking out of place. "Thank you so kindly, Ron. Will you wait just outside for me. I shouldn't be too much longer."

"'Course. Just shout if you need me." he said, leaving with barely a nod to the older Malfoy.

"So what can I help you with Mr. Malfoy, if this meeting isn't about the contract?" she asked, folding her hands neatly in front of her.

His nose flared once and his lips thinned, but that was the only sign of emotion she could see on him which she felt impressive considering she had given him a big surprise. Neither of them expected her to get pregnant, and yet… here she was. He leaned forward and sighed. His voice was thin and haughty when he spoke.

"Contrary to what you might believe, Mrs. Malfoy, I'm quite delighted to learn about my grandchild and to know the line of Malfoy's will continue."

It was the most sincere thing the man ever said to her. "I actually believe you." She couldn't find a single sign that he was lying to her. "Which is surprising considering my… blood status."

He waved a dismissive hand. "As compromising as your blood status truly is, this world is no longer determined by such things anymore is it? _Right-Sider._ "

"You and everyone else in this rotten world know exactly where I stand on that phrase, Mr. Malfoy." she said quietly.

"How you feel about it, little girl, means nothing. It's simply how this _rotten_ world is now." his words dripped venom. "Why do you think my son can stand to be with you? You share his bed with you? Blood status is a thing of the past..."

"Mr. Malfoy." she cut off his last word." Do not presume to know a single thing about my marriage with Draco, I found him broken."

He flinched at her tone, the emotional response reminding her that no matter how malicious the man was, he still loved his son. He sat up straight and she softened her tone.

"You did nothing to help him after the death of his wife and child, of his _mother._ That was your choice. Asking me to marry him was Draco's choice."

It was silent for a long moment before, "I'm here because I want to know where my son is." he said firmly.

"And I'll be honest with you, he is at our home. He doesn't want to see you, right now. He's… recovering."

"Yes… recovering. We both know my son has lost his memories, so don't try to tell me otherwise."

The lie, again. "I'm not lying to you, Mr. Malfoy. His memories are intact. There were other side effects, unforeseen side effects, that Draco didn't count on." she insisted. Him losing his memories of her… that was a side effect he hadn't been counting on, not at all. She felt like she still had a handle on the meeting, though she felt her heartbeat accelerate just slightly. This meeting wasn't exactly going the way she thought it would, though she felt good so far. She thought he might start believing his son was simply ignoring him, not that he was without his memories.

Lucius tapped his cane against the arm of the chair he sat in and they engaged in a staring contest. She didn't blink, and neither did he.

"Very well... " he stood suddenly, smirking. She rushed to stand with him. "Congratulations Mrs. Malfoy, I so look forward to meeting my grandson. However it is tradition for the wizards to go over the contract when the heir is conceived. Have my son meet me on Monday and we'll go over the contract together. If his memories are, as you say, _intact_ then we can put this whole ordeal behind us."

Only when the heavy doors shut firmly behind him did she let out her breath. It was Friday. She only had the weekend to fix Draco. And she only had the hint of an idea on how to do it.

oOoOo

Ron escorted Hermione back through the Floo after what seemed like hours. Draco watched as Harry and Theo jumped up, demanding to know what happened and generally fussing over his witch. She shrugged them off easily, hanging her coat up, and reaching for him instead. She reached for _him_ first.

"I need to talk to my husband. I will talk to you all tomorrow, okay?" she said without taking her eyes of him. She reached out and he automatically mirrored her movement, his long arms coming out, their hands connecting as if they had done the exact thing a million times before. She tugged him up the stairs and into their bedroom, only sparing a word to tell Harry to lock the Floo after he left.

He had so many questions, his emotions a turbine he couldn't slow down. His heart thumped painfully, as it had since the moment she stepped through the Floo and left to meet with his father. He didn't even know the man, but somehow his body knew she was in danger. When the bedroom door shut behind him, he watched with interest as she kicked her shoes off, groaning in relief to be rid of the heeled shoes. The intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on him, even as his breathing became ragged. The thumping of his heart became painful, his vision blurring, his head spinning as he stumbled to the bed.

"Draco?"

"I don't know what the matter with me, something is wrong…" he gasp out. "I feel…"

She grabbed his face, forcing him to meet her dark eyes. "Draco look at me. Ah ah, look at me now."

Like a snake being charmed, her eyes caught him and he couldn't look away. "Draco, you're safe. You're. Safe. Draco. You're here with me."

Her voice cut through the blur of his vision, her gentle mumbles calmed him. His heart complied and slowed down. Her voice felt soothing and slow the more she mumbled into his ear, as did her hands on his face. It took several minutes for his breathing to normalize. "What happened to me?" he found himself curled on his side, his arm pressed beneath him in the bed. She was folded over him, her hands holding his face, and her forehead rested against his.

"You had a panic attack." she said softly. "I shouldn't have left you like that, I'm sorry Draco."

"I get them often?"

She nodded, pushing strands of hair from his face. "Not nearly as often as you used to. Most times I can pull you out of it," she smiled, a sweet tilt of her lips he felt was just for him. He fingered the small dimple on her right side and wondered not for the first time, how he had fallen for this witch.

Because his body knew how in love he was with her. "Your eyes hypnotize me." he said.

Smiling again, "Yes, you've told me before. You like to say you can't resist. And then I tell you to kiss me to prove it."

He felt the last of his panic attack fade away, leaving only the same strange emptiness in his head he felt since he woke up in the hospital. Feeling her body so close to his, he wanted nothing more in that moment than to remember.

"Why?" he asked. "Why did we keep this relationship a secret? We've been together for years, married each other. Why keep the secret?"

He found his hand spreading over her stomach, under the linen of her suit. Her skin felt soft and hot at the same time. He rubbed his thumb over her hip and let his eyes linger on her pale face. She had a thin set lips under a thin nose, and a pleasantly round face. He liked the curve of her cheeks, and loved the dark pools that were her eyes. When she went to look away, he felt his fingers grip her chin and pull her gaze back to him.

It just felt _right._ This house, her eyes, her touch, the bed they were on.

Her lips parted and she sucked in a single breath. "It was my fault, Draco. I wanted to keep the secret."

"And I went along with it?" he asked.

Nodding, she stretched her legs beside him and he shifted to allow room for her to cuddle into his side, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

"You have to get your memories back." she said quietly. "Draco, I…" she dug into her pocket, pulling out a wrinkled and folded bit of parchment a moment later. "This is some of your research. When I was looking over it earlier I found this little note…"

She smoothed out the wrinkles and held up the parchment for him to see.

 _Everything I do, I do for her._

It was written in the elegant penmanship he had come to recognize as his own. "Her?" he asked, then a moment later he said, "You."

His gaze lingered on the upper curve of his 'r' and suddenly, he knew he was right. "I do it for you. I _made_ this potion for _you."_

"Why, but why Draco?" she begged him. "I don't know why. My life _has_ been hard. But I endured. You, you were the one on the edge Draco!"

"You're my bloody wife!" he yelled at her, gripping her shoulders tightly. "Do you have any idea how to get my memories back?!"

"I do but I don't know if it'll work, I don't even know if you'll like it…" she rambled on. "You signed your name on the discharge papers, and it was the same as usual. You act the same, your body remembers even if you don't… Legilimens didn't work on you but I think it was because of the Charm work you did on the potion, it was keyed to you… and..."

She bit down on her lip, her eyes growing wet. "Damn it Draco Malfoy." Cursing, she surged forward and kissed him, their lips connecting harshly and her hands digging into his chest, her nails tearing into his skin.

 _It felt so right._

Without missing a beat, he pulled her on top until her legs straddled his hips and he felt his erection grow instantly. Their kiss deepened when her tongue slid past his lips until heat rolled up between them and their breath came in pants. They parted, but her hands immediately went to the edge of his shirt, pulling it over his head. His arms came down to the large buttons on the front of her red suit, and he undid them quickly, eagerly, until he pushed the linen off her shoulders roughly leaving her in the matching skirt and silk camisole. He pushed down the straps of her cami and kissed and bit into her bare shoulders, her hips digging into his creating friction they both couldn't ignore.

She gasp out and grabbed his face, bringing their lips together again. He pushed his hands up her legs, pushing her skirt up, gripping her tights and pulling them down in a rough motion that nearly had them toppling over. She laughed loudly, a ringing sound that filled his body to the brim with a tenderness and a memory unlocked in his head, flooding him with surprise and desperation.

It was… _Her,_ doing the same thing she was now. Tugging a brown suit skirt down, the sun on her face as she laughed, their bodies hot and flushed.

He blinked and she stood before him, the soft light of the room making her glow, her face flushed and happy. "Witch…"

She urgently tugged the camisole over her head as he pushed his dark slacks off, kicking away his socks and underwear. His finger played with the tattoo on his torso, a bloodied dagger that dripped steadily. She stood before him, a red silk bra and matching panties came off as he watched longingly, desperate for more memories, desperate for her, and she mirrored his movement. Her tattoo colored her hip and as she fingered the ink there, he thought there couldn't be any better foreplay than that.

She pushed him until he laid back on the bed and she came over him, her body soft and warm as she did. She smiled again as they kissed, lips wet against each other. She reached between them and grasped his erection with her hand until he was positioned where she wanted.

In a single movement, she slid over his erection, the cradle between her legs just as wet as their kiss. His hands dug into her hips.

Another memory shook loose, her above him like she was, hair wild from previous physical activity, her mouth opened in a perfect 'O' shape as he stretched inside her, moved her hips over him in a pounding rhythm. "Witch." he said to her. "Make me remember. Oh Gods make me remember."

His husky voice brought her forward until her breasts were in his face, and he slid a hand up her back and into her hair. The moment he tugged at the tangled strands, silver and red sparks glittered down around them igniting their spirited passion into _more._ He felt the alien magic from the potion twist inside him. Coil and uncoil painfully.

His hips surged up as he gripped her hair, pulling her head down at the same time. She screamed out so he did it again, and again. He wanted her to make him remember, so she did. Their bodies gripped in passion as his memories unraveled dangerously.

Theo pushing him down as toddlers.

Quidditch stands full of students.

A frightened ferret.

His Father belittling him.

The Room of Hidden things.

His witch being tortured by his Aunt.

His mother and her stunning grey eyes.

His late wife and her kind blue eyes.

His lost child, and the unbearable pain of the loss.

His witch, trusting him.

His witch, falling in love with him.

His witch.

"Oh Gods, Granger." he turned them over, sparks flying over them as the magic of the potion uncoiled and depleted until his memories untangled and organized in a rush that left him jacked up on adrenaline and desperate for his witch. His love. His wife.

"Don't you _ever_ meet with my Father without me." he growled at her as they found their rhythm again, his body pinning her down. Both his hands found their way into her massive tangle of hair and he gripped her head as he fucked her, their hips meeting stroke for stroke, their breath mingling as they panted.

"You're back, it's you."

"You _healed_ me, Granger. You healed me."

He felt all his energy drain into her, all his anger at the world, the pain from his losses, his drive to make the potion. "Of course it was for you." he mumbled into her mouth. He bit at her lips and then kissed it better. "How could you not _know_ it was for you? And don't you dare give me that bullshit about me being on the edge."

"Draco… oh Draco. I'm sorry."

"How could you not know it was for _you, my witch?"_

She crested beneath him, her body hot and flush against his as she sighed in orgasm. "Why? Why?" she panted.

He felt his own release building as he buried his head into her neck, his fingers tugging at her hair, until he spent himself and relaxed into her soft body. "Why, Draco? Why?"

She pushed sweaty strands of hair from his flushed face. "Why, tell me why."

"Because I love you so damn much." he panted, dragging her body into his arms as he rolled sideways. "Because you wake up from nightmares, from things I can't fix, things _I can't heal._ "

"Draco… no…"

"Everything I do, I do for you. Without you I have nothing." his energy sapped, he buried his face into her hair and felt tears roll down his face.

"Draco, you have me. Always, you have me always. And more." she grasped his hand and spread it over her stomach. "I forgive you."

Her words felt like a balm, until he stopped crying and they held each other tightly against one another, until he fingered the tattoo on her hip and she mirrored the movement. The week had been long, and strange, for both of them. Nothing was the same, and yet…

"Fuck." he said, when they both calmed down a long time later.

She smiled, feeling like things were better. "Watch your language, Malfoy."

The memory unlocked and he looked down at her. "That's why I asked for you."

Hermione looked up and met his gaze. "Me? A Muggle-Born?"

"You, the Brightest Witch of Her Age. And the best lawyer around. The love of my life. My wife, the mother of my child." he mumbled the words between kisses, before he came over her and slid inside her again.

She took a deep breath, moaning at the intrusion. "You… flatter me."

"It's the truth."

And they both remembered.


End file.
